Borrowed Time
by RainaWrites
Summary: Conspiracy. War. The Borg. Carmen Riker finally found where she belongs, but dark times are on the horizon. Can she stop the Enterprise from being destroyed this time? Or will she end up alone again?
1. Resistance

Klaxons rang their warning, creating echoes of panic within Carmen's Betazoid senses. Flashes of emergency lights filled her vision as she raced down the empty corridor. The turbolift was just ahead, but as she slid to a stop, she could see that it was clearly out of order. Kicking the gutted panel with her boot, she huffed out a frustrated snarl. Someone had destroyed this panel on purpose. _To keep anyone from reaching the bridge, no doubt. _

A small cry rose up from the bundle clutched tightly to her chest. She shifted the weight onto her hip and, pushing back the edge of a blanket, revealed the face of a baby boy. Dark curls framed his tear-stained cheeks. His eyes, blue as hers, blue as their father's, gazed up at her woefully.

"Hey," she said, a gentle rebuke. "Don't worry. I'll find another way to reach mom and dad." His bottom lip trembled on the verge of another wail. Carmen lifted him so that his head rested against her shoulder and patted him gently on the back. "Shh, shh. It's going to be alright, Billy. I promise."

According to Counselor Troi, his name was an ode to William Frederick Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill, the cowboy who traipsed through her favorite bedtime stories. But if you asked William Riker, he'd tell you (with a proud puff of his chest) that the boy was named after him. Carmen liked to tell people that both of them were right. Only a boy as special as her little brother could be named after two heroes instead of just one.

Billy whimpered softly. She bounced him against her shoulder and tried her best to project soothing thoughts, just in case he could see them. Thoughts of his favorite window in Ten Forward, where distant galaxies sparkled like those Alaskan brooks in early morning light. Thoughts of Betazed, where he was born, and nana's lakehouse. They had all stayed there for Billy's first month of life, on that beautiful corner of Lake Cataria. Carmen would watch him in the evenings to let their parents get some rest. As the sky turned purple with dusk, she'd walk along the edge of the water and tell him stories of ancient Klingon warriors. Those were happy days, filled with the hazy bliss of new beginnings. Only three months from this moment, yet a lifetime ago it seemed.

She turned away from the hopeless turbolift, racking her mind for a plan. Then her feet froze in horror. A shadow filled the hall, and it was plodding towards them calmly. A single red eye gleamed in the dark. It stared at the young woman straight from her worst fears. She clutched the baby tighter and backed away.

As the being came closer, it lifted its arms and uttered a single phrase aloud. A phrase that chilled the blood in her veins. A phrase she heard in every nightmare that haunted her sleep. "_Resistance is futile.._."


	2. Chasing Ghosts

**I'm back! I had so much fun writing "The Collector." Thanks so much for your lovely reviews at the end there :-). Now back to the Riker family's current predicament...**

* * *

_Earlier that day..._

"Anything yet?"

Laforge, standing shoulder to shoulder with Data, tore his attention away from the readouts in front of them. Commander Riker was making his way through Main Engineering, his sights set on the two men.

"Just finished the diagnostic," Laforge replied.

"And?"

"And…" Laforge puffed out a sigh. "I'm pretty sure it was just a fluke, sir. A discrepancy in the readouts. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened."

Riker folded his arms, nodding even as he wavered over Laforge's answer. "Think we should run a second diagnostic? Just to be sure?"

Laforge glanced back at the screen. "I think we're chasing ghosts, but...I'll have Haykov and Sheppard assist me this time. I know you need Data back on the bridge."

At mention of the two younger men, Riker's gaze shifted towards a power conduit on the other side of the long, hall-shaped space. Sheppard's legs stuck out of the deactivated conduit while Haykov crouched nearby, handing him various tools upon request. Cleaning power conduits wasn't anybody's favorite job. The two would probably jump at the chance to run a diagnostic, Riker knew. "Sounds good," he conceded. "Let me know when you're done. Come on, Data."

But as he turned to leave, something on Data's shoulder snagged his attention. His face wrenched together, bewildered, as he plucked a black dot off the android's uniform. "What is this?"

Data studied it quizzically. "I do not know, sir."

Laforge stepped closer. "They're all over him!" he exclaimed. He picked another one off his friend's back and held it aloft between his fingers. "Are these...magnets?"

The sound of snickering reached Riker's ears. His head whipped up, searching for the source. Immediately the snickering ceased. That's when he noticed Haykov turn abruptly away from them. His ears, a bright shade of pink, contrasted sorely with his platinum blond hair. Riker's eyes narrowed. Drawing all of his authority around him like a robe, he strode over to where the young men were working. "Something funny over here?"

Sheppard pulled himself out of the conduit, bumping the top of his head in his haste. "N-no sir," he stammered, and rubbed at the newly tender spot beneath his chestnut colored curls.

Riker rolled the magnet between his fingers without removing his eyes from the guilt-ridden Sheppard. "You wouldn't happen to know who's been leaving magnets on Data's back, would you?"

Sheppard turned as red as the commander's uniform. Upon sight of his friend floundering, Haykov tried to intervene. "We...we uh…well you see, sir..."

"I asked you a question, ensign." Riker glowered relentlessly over the young man. Beads of sweat pricked along Sheppard's forehead. Trembling, he rose to his feet and drew in a deep breath of air.

"It was me, sir."

"What did you say?" Riker growled.

"It was my idea. I take full responsibility."

The young ensign stood at attention, trying (and failing) to meet the commander's eye whilst awaiting his fate. At first, Riker said nothing. Then, slowly, his lips curled back into a smirk. "You're a good kid, Allan."

Sheppard gulped. "Yes, sir. And I know I've disappointed you, sir. I promise to-"

"But you know what else you are?" Riker folded his arms smugly across his chest. "A terrible liar."

Sheppard went from red to white in a matter of seconds. With a sinister chuckle, the commander gave his combadge a tap. "Ensign Riker, come to Main Engineering immediately."

Laforge appeared at his elbow. "I should have known," he laughed. "This has Carmen written all over it. Here you go, sir-" He poured the rest of the magnets into the commander's palm. Riker counted them silently, all while ignoring Sheppard and Haykov's sputtering protests.

Presently Carmen came around the corner. She started to smile as she approached her father, but the smile quickly wilted when she caught sight of her accomplices.

"You uh...wanted to see me?" she asked, drawing herself up alongside the sheepish young men.

Riker dumped the magnets unceremoniously at her feet. "Want to tell me why Data was wearing eleven of these things?"

"_Eleven?_" she balked. "That's a new record!" Riker let out an exasperated sigh and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Carmen cleared her throat, donning a more penitent demeanor. "I mean...I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"How long have you been at this?" Riker demanded.

She lowered her eyes to the ground. "A week."

"Okay, first of all-" Riker's chest swelled with an indignant breath. "Data is a lieutenant commander, not a fridge for crying out loud. Second of all…you've been at this for a week, and you only got to eleven?"

Carmen's head shot up. The grin on Riker's face confirmed that she had, in fact, heard him correctly. The same lopsided grin made its way across her own face. Sheppard wiped his forehead, immensely relieved. He always seemed to be underfoot when it came to the commander. Even before he started dating the man's wayward daughter.

"Alright, alright," Riker grumbled. "Get back to work. All of you. And someone pick up these magnets-"

The lights dimmed suddenly. Words flashed from the computer screens along the wall. Carmen stiffened as she recognized the warning. "ALERT. CONDITION: YELLOW."

"Yellow alert?" She looked to her father, hoping he might know what was going on, but Riker appeared just as confused as the rest of them. His hand flew to his combadge for answers.

"Riker to Picard," he paged. "Is the away team alright?"

"_They have returned safely,"_ came Picard's reply._ "But I need you to go back down to the surface, Number One. Take Carmen with you."_

Riker's eyes fell on the young woman. "Carmen, sir?"

"_Yes. We...we need to know for sure."_

Carmen's face clouded with concentration. "He is...frightened?" she whispered, unable to believe what her own Betazoid senses were telling her. Sheppard reached out and interlaced his fingers with hers. Then he squeezed her hand once. Twice. Three times.

She turned her head and smiled at him, acknowledging the silent message. Three squeezes_. I'm here, _it meant. Sheppard started doing it to help with her nightmares. Whenever she'd begin to stir fitfully in her sleep, he'd squeeze her hand in successions of three until she squeezed his hand back. Then he knew that the nightmare had passed, and she knew that she wasn't alone.

"Be right there, sir," Riker said over his combadge, and squared his shoulders. He could already feel the weight he was about to place upon his daughter's. "Let's go, Carmen. We need to gear up."

Nodding, she let go of Sheppard's hand and followed the commander out of Main Engineering. The young man's brow creased with worry as he watched them disappear from view.


	3. A Small But Sinister Word

**I know you've all warned me, but...I have ANOTHER concussion. Got knocked out at Tuesday night's training. This is apparently not a good year for my head! Looks like I'll be taking it easy again for awhile. On a positive note, the snow is almost all gone from our yard. I know it's only March, but I need summer to hurry up and get here! Also need to stop getting hit in the head hahaha.**

* * *

Carmen stood next to her father on the edge of a jagged crater. According to the coordinates, they were supposed to be standing on the edge of a Federation colony. But all they could see now was a hole in the ground, an unmarked grave on a lonely little planet. A blood red sun set in the mournfully gray sky. Even the stars would not show their faces tonight.

"No…" Carmen gasped, sinking to her knees. "Not again." She had been here before, on the edge of a violent emptiness. At the beginning of the end.

Riker crouched beside her. "Is it them?" he asked.

She nodded, swallowing a shaky breath. "The Borg. They've been here, dad. They did this."

* * *

Troi was waiting for them when they returned to the Enterprise. She knew their findings just from the heaviness of their hearts. Without a word, Carmen flew into her mother's arms. Riker smiled at them sadly. He had feared that the young woman would withdraw behind her defenses again, rebuild those walls they had so carefully dismantled. But this time, she chose to run towards comfort instead of away from it, and that gave him hope.

Stepping off the transporter pad, he patted Carmen on the back as she clung to her mother. "I'll report to the captain," he said. "Stay here. Take your time." Troi thanked him with a smile. Then she wrapped Carmen tighter and closed her eyes, flooding the road between their Betazoid minds with reassurance. After several minutes, Carmen's arms loosened of their own accord.

"Why don't you go get your brother?" Troi suggested, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Carmen's ear. "I bet he'd be happy to see you. Just be sure to thank Hannah for watching him."

Carmen nodded, recomposing herself. "Where will you be?"

"I have to join your father on the bridge," she answered.

"Maybe I should go, too-"

"No." Troi smiled, a hint of wryness in the corner of her mouth. "I know you want to help, to_ do_ something. But for now, we have to trust the captain. It is his turn to act. Are we still on for dinner?"

"Dinner?" Carmen blinked. All her trivial plans had flown away when she saw that crater in the ground.

"Yes, dinner. Wasn't Allan going to join us?"

The incident with Data and the magnets felt like it happened years ago. To Carmen, at least. It was probably still fresh in Sheppard's mind, meaning he'd be reluctant to spend a quality evening with the commander. But Carmen knew he'd still come if she asked him to. "Uh...yeah. Yeah he'll be there."

"Good." Troi smiled warmly. "I'm looking forward to it. And so is Will, even though he'd never admit it. See you then?"

Carmen mustered a smile. "See you then."

* * *

Picard knew it was the Borg, even before his first officer returned with the news. Something had disturbed his sleep the night before, a foreboding shadow of some kind. A sixth sense, perhaps. Something vague and intangible. But as he sipped his Earl Gray tea in the early hours, listening to Crusher ramble over jam and toast, her comforting presence banished the darkness from his thoughts.

How he longed for that security now, the hope that one finds in a warm breakfast and in warm company. The Borg couldn't be far. He felt the weight of the ship on his shoulders. All those missions unfulfilled. All those _lives_ unfulfilled-lives entrusted to him in this uncharted wilderness of the Final Frontier. How much longer until his fears were no longer vague and intangible, but something real and within reach?

"Sir?"

A stifling silence heralded his first officer's arrival on the bridge. Everyone waited tensely to hear his findings. "Yes, Number One?"

"You were right, sir. It was them."

Picard found himself grateful that Counselor Troi had not accompanied the commander. Even he could feel the shudder that made its way around the bridge. "Is she sure? No doubt at all?"

Breathing out a slow and deliberate breath, Riker nodded. "I saw it in her eyes. She's sure."

Now he knew what that shadow was. He knew what had disturbed his sleep. It was a small but sinister word that seemed to follow the young woman, snapping at her heels, chasing her even from one universe to the next. _War._

* * *

It was a bright blue day in San Francisco, but dark clouds hovered over the council's chambers at Starfleet Headquarters. President Jaresh was last to take his seat, and he did so with much flustering and mumbling. Picard's news had reached Earth, news of the Borg's presence in Federation space.

To the president's right, a human male leaned over his clasped hands on the table. His hair, peppered with age, looked disheveled as though he had run his distressed hands through it too many times. "Sir, if I may…"

Jaresh raised his palm, and the nervous murmur around the table faded into nervous silence. "Go on, Admiral Leyton."

"I have a military strategist anxiously awaiting our permission to shuttle out to the Enterprise. He is stationed at Starbase Montgomery, close to their current position, and I believe he would be a valuable asset-"

"Go. Give him the word," said the president, wasting no time. "And send me Mister Naman on your way out." As Leyton departed, the room erupted into frenzied speculations. Jaresh raised his hand again, but this time, no one paid attention to him. With a frown, he resigned himself to waiting for his clerk.

Moments later, a small man with a beak-like nose appeared. He shuffled quickly to Jaresh's end of the table, red-faced and shaken. "Sir, I must inform you that-"

"Raise Picard on a private channel, please," Jaresh said, trampling over the clerk's attempt to speak.

"Sir, I can't. I-"

"If he is busy then at least send him notice that he will have a guest arriving from Starbase Montgomery by tomorrow morning."

"What I'm trying to say is-"

"Hurry, we haven't much time! One colony has already been taken, with many more lives at stake. Don't you understand my urgency?"

"Yes, sir. But I cannot reach Captain Picard."

The roar around the table died suddenly as if the clerk's ominous statement had struck every ear. Jaresh's heart sank in his chest. "And...why not?"

Naman peered around the room nervously. He dreaded answering the question as much as the council dreaded hearing it. "They are gone, sir. I'm sorry, but...we've lost all contact with the Enterprise."


	4. A Narrow Escape

**Thank-you for such wonderful feedback! As for my head, still been getting bad headaches, but I'm doing okay. Good enough to write! :-) **

* * *

Carmen had only just retrieved her brother when the Borg attacked. A sudden jolt brought her to her knees, and she knew that the shields had failed. Billy cried out, his small mind overwhelmed by the wave of terror washing over their ship. Carmen wrapped the blanket tighter around him. She could feel his fear more acutely than her own feelings. Until she saw the drone.

It stepped straight out of her nightmares, stalking towards the young woman as she clutched her baby brother to her chest. Warning lights flashed in the dark, intermittently illuminating the Borg's pallid face. "Resistance is futile," it said in a bone-chilling monotone. "You will surrender and be assimilated."

"Like hell," she spat, then covered her brother's ears so she could say something with a little more sting.

Heedless, the drone continued its encroach. Carmen recoiled, her eyes darting back and forth in search of an escape. _The service corridors! _Sheppard worked in them often, and said that they ran all over the ship like an interconnected maze. One of them might lead to the bridge, to her parents. "Riker to Sheppard," she paged, trying her best to quell the desperation in her voice. "Can you hear me?"

"_Carmen?"_ he answered. _"I'm here, but we've had to evacuate Engineering. There's been a hull breach. Are you somewhere safe?"_

"Is there a service corridor on Deck 7?" she asked, returning his question with a question.

"_It's um...it's between sections three and four. Why? What's the matter?"_

Quickly, she glanced behind her. Section four lay just beyond the next corner. If she made a run for it, she might be able to crawl inside the service corridor before the drone caught up with her.

"_Please." _His voice strained with worry._ "Tell me where you are. I can be there in-"_

"I'm fine," she lied. "Now stay put. I'll come to you as soon as I can." Then she cut the transmission and set off. As she raced down the hall, she pressed the baby's head against her shoulder to keep from jostling him. He whimpered softly, sensing her urgency, and grasped the edge of her collar with his little fist.

Something pushed through the clamor in Carmen's mind, something warm and familiar. Her mother. She reached for her children across the cold expanse of their fear. _I'm here, my loves. I'm here..._

A colorful image floated into view, clouds of orange and pink. It felt like safety, and reminded Carmen of her mother's favorite drink, the Samarian Sunset. But why would her mother be thinking of a Samarian Sunset right now?

At last, Carmen found the tunnel entrance. It was marked by a square, slatted cover along the wall. One solid kick and the cover fell to the floor with a clang. Keeping Billy tucked against her chest with one arm, she got down on her knees and clambered into the service corridor. Two rows of emergency lights lit the way, one on each side of the narrow tunnel. She heard the metal cover clatter again and then something closed around her ankle. Before she could cry out, it yanked her backwards with a jerk. She twisted midair, landing on her shoulder to spare Billy the crushing weight of their fall. Her free leg lashed out, kicking wildly at the drone. A snarling scream tore from her throat, for she could feel herself losing the battle, feel her freedom slipping away.

A mechanical claw clamped tighter around her ankle, sawing through flesh and tendons until it grated against bone. Carmen's scream turned into a sharp cry of pain. She let go of her brother as the Borg dragged her back into the hall. Left behind, Billy lay crying on the tunnel floor, his arms flailing against their sudden emptiness. His wails cut her even deeper than the bladed claw.

The drone's other hand grabbed hold of her jaw, forcing her head back to expose her neck. She thrashed violently, uselessly, in its iron-like grip. With a hiss, two tubes snaked forth from the drone's wrist. Carmen's eyes widened. Terror blazed into her mind, searing her every thought. _No...not now! Not like this! _

She heard the sound of a dull, sickening thud. Surely it was the sound of the assimilation tubes burying into her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the pain. But no pain followed. Slowly opening her eyes again, she found that the drone had sunk against the tunnel entrance, a knife lodged into its throat.

"Carmen!" someone cried, and hoisted her back into the safety of the service corridor. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?" Vaguely, she realized that her father was speaking to her. His hands moved the hair away from her neck, searching for any marks. "Talk to me, Carmen. Please."

Her eyes rolled towards him. "Dad?"

He breathed out with audible relief. "We've got you. It's okay."

"But-Billy!"

"We've got him, too," came Troi's voice. Forcing herself upright, Carmen saw her baby brother curled against their mother's chest, burrowing into the safety of her presence. Troi flashed a tearful smile at her daughter. Meanwhile, Riker's attention shifted to the young woman's leg. His brows pinched together worriedly to catch a glimpse of bone beneath blood-soaked ribbons of flesh.

"Let's go," he said. "We need to get you to sickbay."

Carmen pulled her knees beneath her, wincing as her foot flopped against the floor. "Is it safe?"

"It's safe," he promised. "Worf has a party flushing out the last of the drones."

"They'll send more," she warned.

"They'll have to catch us first." The commander held out his arm so she could pull herself forward, but she paused, staring at him quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

"We made for the Paulson Nebula after breaking away from the Borg's tractor beam. For some reason, they wouldn't follow us in."

Carmen met her mother's eye. Now she understood the picture she tried to send, the clouds of pink and orange. A nebula. Safety. "We're alone now," she said plaintively. "Starfleet won't be able to reach us in here. And the Borg-they won't give up."

Her father tugged gently on her arm, urging her onward. "Neither will we."

* * *

The Enterprise's skirmish with the Borg cube, as brief as it had been, left sickbay filled to maximum capacity. Riker had to return to the bridge, but Troi stayed behind with their children. The encounter had claimed nine lives, most of whom were in Engineering when the hull breach occurred.

Carmen lay on a cot tucked against the wall. Bettencourt, one of Crusher's senior staff members, hunched over her ankle. His dermal regenerator hummed loudly as it repaired the layers of mangled flesh. With a weary sigh, Carmen looked up at her baby brother. He had finally fallen asleep. His cheeks glowed rosy pink from the warmth of his mother's arms. Yet despite the peacefulness emanating from his mind, she could still hear echoes of his wails, still see him lying helpless and alone on the tunnel floor.

"I'll take Billy from now on," she declared. "Don't leave him with Hannah again. I'll take him whenever you have appointments."

"You have to work, too," Troi countered. "Worf needs you. Especially now."

"Still, I think Billy would be safer with me."

Troi smiled at her in a chiding sort of way. "Let's face it-you've never liked Hannah."

Reaching up, Carmen stroked the side of her brother's cheek. "She's just...she's not qualified to take care of him. He's so little, you know?"

Troi shifted Billy into the crook of one arm and, with her free hand, squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "Hannah has completed years of training, my love. According to Starfleet, she's more qualified than you are to watch a baby."

"Yeah, but she was feeding him _peas_ when I picked him up," Carmen retorted.

"What's wrong with peas?"

"He hates peas! They're his least favorite vegetable!"

Troi stifled a laugh. "Let's not worry about this for now, alright? Besides, it looks like someone wants to see you."

Two young men pushed through the crowd, eyes darting frantically from face to face. "Over here!" Haykov shouted, spotting them first. He pulled Sheppard in the right direction, and they made their way over to Carmen's cot.

She sat up, trying her best to put on a reassuring smile as they approached. Haykov turned a sickly shade of green and Sheppard's face wrenched with concern upon sight of her torn up ankle. He cupped a gentle hand over her knee. "Was it...one of them?"

She nodded, pulling his hand away from her knee and clasping it tightly. Later she would tell him everything that happened, once she was ready to relive it.

"What about you two?" Troi asked, adjusting Billy's weight again. The baby's eyes blinked open. One might attribute it to his mother's movement, but Carmen knew better. Her brother had an uncanny way of knowing whenever Sheppard was around.

"Us? Oh, we're fine," he answered, and smiled fondly at the boy. Billy wriggled with sheer joy. His chubby little arms stretched towards the junior officer.

"Maybe we should ask Allan to watch him instead of Hannah," Troi quipped. "Ever thought of a career in childcare?"

Haykov nudged his friend's shoulder. "You're pretty useless in Engineering, anyway."

Sheppard grinned. "Yeah, yeah...well at least I have a backup career, from the sounds of it," he said, reaching for the baby as his babbles grew more and more demanding. Gladly, Troi passed him over.

The sight lifted Carmen's spirits. Sheppard took so naturally to children, and for some reason, they took naturally to him. Whenever he accompanied the young woman to Hannah's classroom, the little ones would race past her to climb all over him with shrieks of delirious laughter._ "It's because he's a pushover,"_ her father said once. _"Kids like someone they can push around."_

"_It's because he's softhearted,"_ Troi insisted, speaking in her counselor's voice._ "Kids like someone who won't push __**them**__ around."_

Whatever it was that drew children to his company, Billy was no exception. Sheppard had a way of making him laugh so hard that his little belly rolls would shake. It infuriated Carmen, for no matter how hard she tried, she could never elicit the same reaction from her baby brother.

"Oh! By the way," Troi said. "How does spaghetti carbonara sound for dinner tonight?"

A weariness returned to Carmen's face as she looked up at her mother. "But the Borg...they're still out there."

"Yes, but we still need to eat," Troi pointed out, running her fingers soothingly through her daughter's hair. "Haykov, would you like to join us?"

The smile fled from Haykov's face. "Join-? As in, you and the commander? Uh, no thank-you. I just remembered...I think Kerry said...I think I have plans." He patted Sheppard on the back. "You go ahead and have fun without me."


	5. Spaghetti Carbonara

**I didn't realize it had been almost THREE weeks since that last update! My apologies. Been focused on my other passion lately (jiu-jitsu), as we had a big event this past Saturday for some of our fighters. My close friend/sparring partner had her second ever MMA match, and I'm proud to say that she won! And now I can focus on my writing again haha. Sorry for leaving you hanging, and I'll get the next chapter out MUCH sooner. :-) **

* * *

Riker moved about the kitchen, whisking this and frying that, with Billy perched in the crook of his arm. The infant faced outward, mouthing a toy moose and occasionally glancing up towards the familiar rumble of his father's voice.

"Next you sprinkle in some flour," Riker instructed. "And after about ten minutes on low heat, voila! You have a perfect carbonara sauce!"

He beamed down at the boy, who took the moose from his mouth just long enough to make a gleeful exclamation. "Da!"

It made Riker laugh, which made Billy bounce against his stomach. "Look at you-Starfleet's youngest sous chef!"

From the sofa, Troi watched them with a soft smile. As Riker bent down in front of the oven to check on the creme brulee, which was just beginning to color, he inadvertently caught her eye. She held his gaze as she bit down on the corner of her lip.

"That look," he said, "is it for me, or dessert?"

Her smile went from soft to sultry. "Is there a difference?"

Riker paused, arching one of his eyebrows. But before he could reply, a muffled groan drifted up from the sofa. "I'm still here, you know," Carmen reminded them. "And I've already been traumatized once today."

The young woman lay stretched out along the cushions, her head on her mother's lap. She hadn't moved since they returned from sickbay. Yet still, Troi could feel her restless mind wandering. Now and then she had to guide her daughter's thoughts away from a dangerous edge where they might fall into a dark and scary place.

"Come on," Riker retorted. "Are you still moping about that rock?"

Carmen threw him a glare from all the way across the room. The commander could never quite grasp the importance of a little blue rock. He couldn't understand why she carried it everywhere, or why it distressed her so much to lose it.

"Why can't you get another one from your room? Aren't they all special?"

"That's not the point!" she cried. "This was the blue one!"

"You don't have any other blue ones?"

"Not_ that_ blue one!"

"What makes it so special?"

"_They're all special!"_

Riker snorted through his nose. "What are we arguing about again?"

He looked to Troi for help, who was combing her fingers through the young woman's hair in an attempt to smooth her ruffled temper. As a counselor, and as a mother, she understood Carmen's odd attachments to things. It was no different than the way Billy needed his toy moose to fall asleep every night. "She found it on Betazed," Troi quietly explained. "It's...her piece of home."

"And it was the same color as nana's music room," Carmen mumbled.

For a few minutes, the only sound in their quarters was that of the sauce simmering on the stovetop. Riker thought back to the first time she showed him that silly little stone. Something had danced behind her eyes when she described the shore of Lake Cataria where she found it, on a stretch of sandy beach just below Lwaxana's lakehouse. That place held a special meaning to her that eluded all others.

"Tell you what…" he said after a time. "I'll help you look for it later tonight. For now, why don't you help me and Billy finish dinner? I find that cooking is the perfect distract-"

"I don't feel like it."

Riker squared his jaw, trying to mentally retrace their steps. As he did so, he found himself back in that service corridor, back at that moment when they almost lost more than a little blue rock. Riker could still see the drone pinning her down, still hear the roar of helpless rage that came from his throat. The Borg's presence had shattered their illusion of safety, violated the halls of their home. _Home. _

Holding Billy a little tighter, he disappeared into the bedroom without another word. When he emerged again, one of his hands was closed securely around something. "Here," he said, standing before the two women.

Carmen looked up at him. "What?"

"Just take it."

"Take_ what?"_

Riker's fingers unfurled. Billy made a soft and curious "_oooh"_ as his eyes latched onto the lump of gold in his father's palm.

"It's from the Kuskokwim Mountains in Alaska. I found this when I was sixteen years old." He proffered it again. "Here, you can have it."

Her fingers twitched as she considered reaching out for it, then lay still again when she changed her mind. "Thanks but...it's not the same."

"Of course it's not the same!" Riker held it aloft, letting little sparks of light catch its edges. "That was just a rock. _This_ is pure gold! It was forged deep inside the Earth, which is just as much your home as Betazed. I know it's not the color of nana's music room, but it's the color of...well...gold."

A begrudging laugh burst through Carmen's scowl. Her brother gave a happy shriek that made her eardrums ring. He didn't understand her amusement; he just wanted to participate in it. Carmen couldn't help but laugh again, this time willingly.

"Now come on," Riker said. "I need help with dinner. I'll check on that sauce if you could-"

A single set of door chimes interrupted the commander. Billy began to kick his legs excitedly and reached for the closed door. "Ah! Ah!"

Carmen perked up, having sensed the same gentle presence. "It's Allan!" she cried, springing from the sofa. She smoothed her rumpled clothes and then hurried to let in their guest.

The door slid back to reveal a young man dressed in evening attire far too formal for the occasion. He held a bouquet of red flowers in one hand, which he barely managed to move out of the way as Carmen crashed into him with a hug so fervent, he made a sound as though he had been punched.

"Oh! Hey! I found this…thought you might want it back." His free hand delved into his pocket, then produced something small, something hard, something blue.

"My rock!" Carmen exclaimed, barrelling into him all over again. He blushed fiercely when she kissed the side of his cheek several times to express her gratitude. He could practically hear the commander rolling his eyes.

"And uh, I have something for you guys, too," he said, extending the bouquet of flowers in Troi's direction.

"Oh, how beautiful!" she gushed. Billy had been growing impatient for his turn to greet their guest, so Troi scooped him up on her way over. "What are they called?"

"_Cosmos atrosanguineus, _or chocolate cosmos. Since Carmen said, um, she said you like anything chocolate."

"Yes, well, she's right about that." The counselor traded him Billy for the bouquet, who batted his toy moose against Sheppard's chest excitedly.

"I don't get it." Carmen rubbed one of the velvety petals between her fingertips. "They don't look like chocolate."

Sheppard smiled at her. "Give them a smell."

Both she and her mother bent over the bouquet, inhaling deeply. Carmen laughed in surprise. "It smells like chocolate! Dad, come smell these! It's the wildest thing!"

Riker stood at the foot of the sofa. He had watched them fawn over the young man with an increasingly irritated scowl. "I'll pass," he declined, folding his now-empty arms across his chest.

Sheppard swallowed his smile. "Did you-did you need any help with dinner, sir?" he offered, and tried to pass Billy off to Carmen, but Billy clutched his tie and refused to let go.

"I can manage."

"Don't be silly," Troi said, prying Billy loose despite his grunting little protests. "Allan, go help him finish dinner. Carmen and I will set the table."

Both men looked as though they were about to protest, but since neither could muster the courage, they merely trudged to the kitchen instead.

* * *

Sheppard took note of the sauce on the stove and a mountain of cooked spaghetti sitting in a strainer. "Want me to stir the-"

"You can mince the garlic." Riker motioned towards a cutting board on the counter. "You do know how to mince garlic, right?"

Several cloves of garlic sat atop the cutting board. Sheppard picked one up tentatively. He could feel the commander's stare like a sunburn on the back of his neck. "Yes, sir. I'll have them ready in no time." He set the clove down and retrieved a knife, placing it flat across the top. Holding his breath, he gave it a thump with the palm of his hand. But the blade slipped off and the clove rolled away, down the length of the counter. Sheppard's dignity rolled away with it.

Riker let out a sigh. Without a word, he took the knife and laid it across a different clove of garlic. _Thwack!_ The clove fell apart under his hand like Sheppard's resolve.

"Oh. Uh, thank you sir."

Riker nodded curtly as he returned the knife. Sheppard put his head down, mincing the garlic and fighting an overwhelming urge to fill the disappointed silence. _"My dad always wins at poker,"_ Carmen had warned him._ "He knows everyone's tells. If you start to ramble, he'll know you're nervous. So __**don't ramble**__." _

"It...it smells delicious, sir." The words leaked out of his mouth. "I'm excited to give it a taste. Spaghetti is my favorite, you know."

"Oh?" Riker said without sounding remotely intrigued. "Must be why Deanna insisted on it."

"Carmen talks about your cooking all the time. Especially your pancakes. Pancakes are her favorite. Of course, you probably know that. I...I've been trying my hand at them, but they always turn out flat." Too late now to stop the impetuous flow. "I mean, I know that pancakes are supposed to be flat. But mine are like..._flat_ flat. She says she doesn't mind, but I know that she-"

"The garlic."

"Pardon?"

"I need the garlic."

"Oh, Right. Here you go, sir." Sheppard picked up the whole cutting board and passed it over. Riker frowned at the hacked pieces of garlic, but dumped them into a pan with the pancetta anyway. Sheppard wrung his hands, unsure of how to salvage the conversation. Or his pride.

The young man would have given up on impressing the commander long ago if it weren't for Carmen. Ever since his mother's death, he had learned to fade into the background. To be comfortable there, even. His face was not a particularly memorable one, and many of his fellow ensigns still had difficulty remembering his name.

But Carmen had noticed him. Her Betazoid side had seen something that the eyes could not. Past that unassuming face was an invincible warmth, something soft and pure that managed to survive amidst the emotional wreckage. She recognized his loneliness, and the marks it had left on his soul. The marks of an orphan.

Sheppard knew how much it meant to her, to have a family again. She had leaned into it, despite the pain. She was stubborn like that. Stubborn and strong. Always, he had admired that about her. And so earnestly, relentlessly, he tried to impress upon the commander. In more hopeful moments he even thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, he could remember what it was like to have a father again, too. _Not today, though._

* * *

Billy had been put down for the night, and so that left Carmen and Sheppard on one side of the table directly across from Riker and Troi. The counselor tried valiantly to keep a conversation going, and occasionally Sheppard would interject with his own pitiful attempt. But it became increasingly more apparent that a dark cloud hovered over their dinner.

"You've barely touched your food," Troi noted, giving Carmen a mental nudge._ Please eat. It's been a long and difficult day. _

"I'm not hungry," she replied out loud.

Riker set his hands on the table on either side of his plate. "Not hungry? Since when?"

Sheppard, too, seemed skeptical. "Did you want me to get you more sauce? It's as good as you said it would be. Your dad did a really good job-"

"What's the point?" Carmen threw her fork down, letting it clang against the edge of her dish. "I mean, the Borg are lying in wait out there and we're-we're eating _spaghetti?"_

"What do you want to do?" Riker shot back. "Starve until they find us?"

"I want...I want this to go away." She bit on her lip hard, biding the tears that threatened to break through her voice.

"We got away from them once," Riker said. "We'll do it again."

His optimism, which usually assured her, now only grated against her weary nerves. Of course they expected to win. They had always won. They didn't know what it was like, to see the faces of the fallen again, desecrated by the Borg. _Better to die._ That's what they said. Better to die than have to be one of them. "You don't understand! You don't understand_ any_ of this!"

Riker's hands flattened against the table. "You think I don't know what's at stake?" He spoke quietly, but severely enough to make her wince. "I know damn well what we stand to lose. Don't you think, even for a minute, that I take this lightly. Not after what we've been through." He sighed, and as he did so, his shoulders slouched forward. "Just...just give me this dinner. Give me one more evening with my family. Alright? There will be time to fight, and that time will be soon. But right now, it's time to eat your dinner. Or no creme brulee before bed. Got it?"

Carmen picked up her fork again. She had her rock. He had his cooking. And they both needed to hold on to that feeling of home. "Did you remember to sprinkle some salt on top?" she asked, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Did I-?" Riker pretended to take offense at her question. "As if I'd forget!"

"Well, you did forget that mom hates garbi fish once. Remember that? When she was pregnant?"

"No, no. We're not bringing that up again."

Troi waved him into silence. "Go on, Carmen. Allan will love this story."

Sheppard grinned, looking from face to resilient face. Not a cloud in sight anymore.

* * *

Everyone, even Carmen, finished their dinner. Only she and Troi could make it through dessert. Then the young woman tiptoed into Billy's room when she heard him begin to fuss, leaving Sheppard behind with her parents. "I should...I should get going," he said, awkwardly waiting by the door. "I promised Geordi I'd work a double shift tonight, help him get Engineering back in order."

Troi smiled at him warmly. "Thank-you for coming, Allan. I know it means a lot to Carmen. It means a lot to us, too." She gave him a hug and then withdrew to the kitchen. Presently they could hear the sound of dishes clattering against the sink. Sheppard felt a shot of panic to be left alone with the commander.

"Uh...and thank-you, sir. For-"

"You need to work on your kitchen skills," Riker said, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.

Sheppard's forced smile began to wilt. "Yes, sir. I know. I-"

"Maybe we should do this more often. You might learn a thing or two."

It took Sheppard a few moments to process the commander's invitation. "You mean-? Oh, thank-you, sir! I'd love to do this again!"

"And...you're overworking it."

"I'm what?"

"The pancakes." Again, he fussed with the cuff of his sleeve. "You're overworking the batter. If you don't leave enough lumps, they'll fall flat when they cook."

"Oh! Pancakes!" Sheppard could hardly contain his relief. "Right! Overmixed...thank-you, sir!"

Carmen appeared behind her father. "Ready to go?" she asked.

Riker turned to her, surprised. "Wait, go where? I thought you were going to stay?"

"Well I decided to help Geordi and the others." She rose up onto the tips of her toes to give him a hug. "Thanks, dad. I mean it."

He watched her and Sheppard leave, then stood in front of the closed door as he blew out a long and slow breath. He knew Geordi would appreciate the help. But he also hated seeing her go.

"Imzadi…" He felt Troi's arms going around his waist, and her chin against his back. "Now you're the one moping."

"Am not."

"Are too. And why did you tell Allan that it was my idea to make the carbonara?"

"Oh, you...heard that?" He turned around to face her, all while she kept her arms encircled around his waist.

"Yes. And I seem to remember that it was _your_ idea, after Carmen mentioned how much he likes spaghetti."

He shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Did not."

"Did too."

Her fingers trailed up the line of buttons on his shirt, and very slowly, undid the top one. "Are we going to argue like this all night, or can we skip straight to dessert?"

He grinned, catching her drift. "Dessert? Think you can handle another round?" She undid another button, then turned and led him to the table. He paused, letting go of her hand. "Oh, I didn't think you were talking about the creme brulee," he said, frowning as she began to stack dishes and set them aside.

"I wasn't." She pulled him down to her lips suddenly. A moan of anticipation rumbled in his throat. He lifted her up, setting her on top of the table, and she leaned back to guide them both onto its surface. Neither of them heard the door to their quarters swish open.

"Hey is it okay if-" Carmen threw up her arms, shielding her face. "What are you doing?" she cried. "We literally just left!"

"What are_ you_ doing?" Riker countered, straightening back up in a hurry.

"I came for my rock!"

"You lost your blue rock again?"

"Not my blue rock. This one." She picked up the lump of gold sitting forlornly on a sidetable. "Is it okay if...if I keep it?" She dared to make eye contact, and found him looking back at her with a small, surprised smile.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you can keep it. So long as you leave right away."

Her face wrenched in disgust. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving!" She hurried out the door, mumbling under her breath all the while. "As if I needed another psychological scar. _Baka,_ I'm never eating on that table again..."


	6. A Ghost in the Mist

Soft pink light, reminiscent of a dawn on Earth, shrouded the bridge in a rosy haze. It danced through the silence, its delicate beauty belying the danger that the nebula simultaneously concealed.

Picard rubbed a hand across his forehead as he stepped off the turbolift. The night had passed uneasily, and he kept expecting to wake from his sleep to the sound of klaxons. The Borg visited him many times in his dreams. He saw his beloved ship in smoldering ruins. He heard the screams of his people as they tried to escape, tried to resist, the very danger he had led them towards. _"Why?"_ they cried, their faces wrenched with bitter betrayal._ "Why did you do this to us?" _

Feeling the weight of someone's stare, Picard pulled himself from his troubled thoughts. "Miss Riker?" he said, surprised to see her standing at tactical. She looked away in a hurry, but not before Picard noticed a certain wrinkle in the corner of her mouth. His counselor pursed her lips the same exact way when she was reading him. "What are you doing here? I thought Mister Bradford was supposed to be on duty?"

"Yes, sir. I couldn't sleep, so I relieved him early. Lieutenant Worf said it would be fine-"

Picard lifted his palm, halting her mid-sentence. "It's just as well. To be honest...you're not the only one who had trouble sleeping."

The wrinkle in the corner of her mouth turned into a small smile. Picard said nothing else, but a silent understanding passed between them. The burdens they carried were similar, and so he found her company that morning strangely comforting.

As he descended down the ramp, Data's crisp greeting hailed his ears. "Good morning, sir. I was not expecting you for another hour and six minutes."

"As they say, Mister Data, no rest for the weary." Picard took his seat at the helm, squinting against the shimmering clouds that swirled within the viewscreen. "Have the sensors detected anything yet?"

"Not yet, sir," Data reported.

"Perhaps they've given up," said a hopeful ensign, standing alone at the communications console.

"No, Driscoll." Carmen shook her head emphatically. "They haven't."

Driscoll scowled over his shoulder at her. Picard had always known him to be a mild-mannered officer, but, being on the final hour of a long and taxing shift, his restraint was beginning to wear. Carmen's tone wasn't helping things, either. She shared her father's unapologetic curtness, but not his rank, which inevitably created friction among her peers.

"And what evidence do you have that the sensors have missed?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Experience," she answered. Begrudgingly, Driscoll turned back to his station without a rebuttal.

Picard rubbed his chin, musing to himself as he gazed into the nebula. Silence descended over the bridge like a spell. Clouds of pink and orange drifted past the ship, the color of a perpetual dawn, making the captain feel as though they were all waiting for a morning that would never come.

A loud beep sounded from Data's station, breaking the spell. All eyes flew to the android. "I am picking something up on the short-range sensors," he said. "It appears to be...a vessel."

Carmen's eyes darted to the turbolift and back. Both of her parents would be arriving soon, signalling a senior crew's turn at the helm. But "soon" may not be good enough.

"Could it be the Borg?" a science officer asked.

"It is not the Borg," Data answered. "Sensors indicate a human lifeform aboard."

Picard rose to his feet. "Human?" he repeated, approaching the android's console to see for himself. "Could the sensors be giving us a faulty reading, Data?"

"It is possible."

"There!" someone cried. The silhouette of a shuttle took form on the viewscreen, wrapped in ethereal light. It hovered before the Enterprise like a ghost.

"Sir-" Driscoll again. He turned his body towards the captain without looking away from his console. "I believe they are trying to hail us, but I keep losing the frequency. There's too much interference."

"They are within range for a tractor beam, sir," Data noted. "We could bring them in."

Picard quickly weighed their options. He glanced over at Carmen, finding himself in need of her mother's counsel. But all he had at the moment was her. Her, Data, and the worn-out remains of last night's crew. "Miss Riker," he implored. "Can you sense anything? Anything at all?"

She closed her eyes in concentration, reaching to the limits of her Betazoid senses. "I...I don't know if I can...wait!" Her eyes shot open again. "Yes, I can sense something!"

"What is it, Miss Riker?"

Her brow furrowed with effort. "It keeps changing. Like when…" She trailed into silence.

"Go on," Picard urged. He understood her hesitation. Using her Betazoid abilities on the bridge meant speaking more freely than she was used to, especially while standing at a battle station.

"Like when my parents found me in the service corridor yesterday," she finished. "There is fear, and then relief, and then anger. Each emotion blurs into the next."

"Maybe they've been running from the Borg, too," Driscoll offered.

"Miss Riker, one more thing." Now he needed the young woman's counsel, not her mother's. "In your experience...could this be a tactic employed by the Borg?"

"No, sir," she said. "Whoever is out there...I believe they are as alone as we are."

Picard straightened his shoulders, and his resolve. "Bring them in, Data."

* * *

_**Meanwhile…**_

Sheppard awoke with a start. Someone was ringing at his door frantically. It nearly gave him a heart attack, with the events of yesterday still fresh in his mind. "Carmen?" he called, instinctively reaching out. But to his dismay, he found the other side of his bed cold and empty.

At first, she had insisted on sleeping alone. _"My nightmares," she said, lingering just inside of his doorway. "They'll only keep you awake. At least one of us should get some rest."_

"_Then go to your parents," he urged. "Your mother-she can help you."_

"_Yeah, well, they're a little busy, remember?" She exaggerated a shudder. "How am I supposed to recover from something like that? I can't even go to counseling about it, because my mom is the counselor!" _

_Sheppard laughed, pulling her into his arms. "Well, you've made it through worse. Right?"_

_She pretended to waver, which made Sheppard laugh all over again. Carmen leaned into the embrace, and into his laughter. _

"_Hey," he whispered, holding her a little tighter. "You sure you don't want to stay?"_

_With a sigh, she rested her chin atop his shoulder. "Maybe I can stay for a__** little**__ while." _

_She stayed all night. _

Now it was morning, just barely, and someone was pounding on his door. Sheppard jumped out of bed, rushing to throw on some decent clothes. To his surprise, he found Commander Riker standing on his threshold. He cradled Billy in the crook of one arm and huffed for breath as though they had been chased there.

"I need you to do me a favor," he said.

Sheppard rubbed his eyes. _Am I still asleep maybe? _"You need...me, sir?"

"Just take him, quick!" Hastily, he dumped Billy into the young man's arms.

"Ah! Ah!" the baby cooed. Unlike his father, he appeared to be having a grand old time.

"I-I don't understand-"

"_William Thomas Riker!"_

The commander grabbed hold of the doorframe, startled by his wife's angry voice. "Imzadi!" he said, turning with a sheepish laugh. "What uh, what are you doing here?"

"Don't you 'imzadi' me," she snapped. "Now where is Billy, and why isn't he with Hannah?"

"Billy?" Riker pretended to draw a blank. He drew up his shoulders, blocking Sheppard's doorway from view.

"Wait, is this-" She lifted onto her toes, trying to look past him. "This is Allan's room! Move out of the way!"

Riker sighed, defeated. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved to the side to reveal a red-faced (and red-handed) Sheppard.

"Oh, uh, hi Counselor Troi," he said. From his arms, Billy bounced ecstatically.

"Mama! Mama!" he cried, overjoyed to see three of his favorite people in one place. This day was turning out to be one delightful surprise after another.

"Hey there, cowboy," Troi crooned, instantly melting into a soft and tender smile. She held her arms out, but Riker interposed himself between the two.

"Does he_ have_ to go back?"

Troi's lips pressed into a thin line. "We've been over this, Will."

"I know, but…" he rested his hands on his wife's shoulders. "I don't want my family spread all over the ship in a time like this. Don't you think he's better off here, with Allan?"

She reached up and squeezed one of his hands. "I know, imzadi."

"You do?"

"...that you've been against Hannah since the beginning. She said she feels like you don't trust her. Can you imagine what that's like, to know her own commander doesn't have faith in her?"

"She's got seven other kids to watch," Riker pointed out. "And don't forget about the peas!"

"I told you, just like I told Carmen-there's nothing wrong with feeding him peas!"

"They _are_ his least favorite vegetable," Sheppard chimed in, then winced immediately as Troi's glare turned on him.

"See!" Riker said. "It's not that I don't trust her, it's that...I have legitimate concerns."

Troi pressed her fingertips to her temples. Riker could practically hear her counting in her head. He didn't enjoy testing his wife's patience (not as much as she believed, anyway). But from the moment he first held his newborn son, he knew that no one on the Enterprise would be able to care for him the way his family could.

It surprised him, how difficult it had been to return to his duties. He couldn't stop thinking about his son's bright blue eyes, and how they seemed to smile when someone talked to him. Or the moment he first placed Billy into his sister's arms, and the way she teared up over every little sound, every little sigh that he made. Billy brought out different things in each of them. Courage, in his mother. Gentleness, in his sister. And for his father, Billy drew out a special kind of fear.

That's because thus far, Riker had only experienced a different side of fatherhood. Carmen needed discipline, structure, restraint. Things that, as a commander, he knew how to give. But a baby? Something small and fragile and utterly helpless? That kind of responsibility was even more daunting than being the first officer of a flagship.

It was during those weeks on Betazed when he realized the true meaning of family. To be surrounded by others who felt the same overwhelming fears, the same overwhelming love. To know that this new life would be fiercely cherished and protected. To willingly share that daunting responsibility.

And so, for awhile at least, Riker felt like they were a real family, a normal family, living the way other normal families got to live. No spaceships. No red alerts. And no Hannah. Troi assured him that, given enough time, they would all adjust to life back on the Enterprise. They were still a real family, after all. But Riker knew, with a wry inward smile, that they would never be normal.

"_Picard to Riker._" The captain came in over his combadge. He could feel Troi's shoulders tensing beneath his hands.

"Here, sir," he answered.

"_I need you to go to Shuttle Bay Five right away. We...have a visitor."_

Sheppard's eyes widened. "A visitor? Out here?"

"Who is it, sir?" Riker asked, an uneasiness rising in his chest.

"_That's what I need you to find out."_

Billy whimpered as a stony change came over his father's visage. Sheppard rocked him gently, whispering a few words of comfort to the boy.

"Alright, alright." Troi blew out sigh. "Billy can stay here for today. If that's okay with you, Allan?"

Sheppard and Riker exchanged a smile. "Yes, ma'am."


	7. The Stranger

**Just wanted to say real quick that you guys are the best, and thanks to each of you who take the time to read or review. I was talking to somebody today about this site, and how much it means to me, and seriously-thank you. :-) **

* * *

"Wait up!"

Riker had just turned down the final stretch of corridor when he heard someone shout. Confused, he glanced over his shoulder. "Carmen? What are you doing here?"

The young woman jogged towards him at a pace brisk enough to make little wisps of hair fall loose from her braid. "Picard asked me to be your security detail," she said, slowing down once she caught up with him.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Asked? Or you volunteered?"

"Well…" she began, but her grin gave her away. Riker shook his head.

"I have no idea who's in that shuttlebay, Carmen. It might not be safe-"

"It's okay, dad," she interrupted. "I didn't sense any malicious intentions."

He paused. The concern fled from his face. "Wait, you-you sensed somebody outside the ship?"

She nodded, reveling in her father's hint of a smile. Very gently, it softened the features of his face.

"You're getting good at that," he remarked. "Picard must have been glad to have you on duty." Riker reached out, giving her cheek a quick cuff. "I know I am."

* * *

Carmen was still beaming as she followed him into the shuttle bay. Two operations officers stood at consoles on either end of the bay, guiding a small craft into the center. Its engines had already powered down, and it landed with a heavy thud that resonated against the chamber walls. Carmen glanced up at her father. He, too, recognized the shuttle as Federation issue. Small and unarmed, but warp-capable. It could have come from just about anywhere.

A hatch opened at the very back. Leaning onto the tips of her toes, Carmen caught her first glimpse of their visitor. He looked tall and broad of shoulder. His coal colored uniform bore no ranks of any kind. His hair, silver and white, had been combed with a meticulous hand. Though he appeared to be much older than her father, he was neither frail nor infirm; instead, he carried himself in a way that commanded dignity.

The man stepped down into the shuttle bay, and now Carmen could see lines of age and experience sunk into his face. But there was something else-an elusive feeling of familiarity, a murky sense that she should recognize this stranger for some reason.

A gust of resentment, hot and hostile, blew over her senses. Bewildered, she looked up at her father, for it had come from him. He knew this man. And this man, very clearly, knew him.

All of his hardness fell away, revealing a poignant humility. His arms swept open in a gesture of surrender. "Son…"

Carmen's eyes flew wide. She reeled back from the word as though it had been a blow. Riker, however, remained unmoved. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, held in place by his anger.

"What am I-?" Arms still open, the senior Riker took a step forward. "You were lost! We thought the whole Enterprise was lost! I came here to find you, Will. To make sure you were okay. When I heard Picard's transmission, I…" He let his arms drop to his sides. "I feared that I'd be too late."

Riker huffed through his nose. "You're fifteen years too late, dad."

The other man winced. "I know, I know. We have a lot of ground to cover. But, please-give me a chance. I was packing even before Leyton gave me the word-"

"Leyton?" Another blaze of anger scorched Carmen's senses. "Admiral Leyton sent you?"

"Yes, as a military strategist. I've been researching the Borg-"

"Then I'll brief the captain. I'm sure _he'll_ be interested in speaking with you." Riker rolled his shoulders back and cleared his throat, signalling the end of their exchange. "Carmen, see to it he's assigned proper quarters please."

And with that, he was gone. Carmen found herself at a loss for words. All she could do was stare, dumbfounded, at the door through which her father had left.

"Carmen? You're...Carmen?"

Her eyes swiveled back towards the old man. His face had changed, it seemed. Hardened. Whereas her father's emotions had burnt her thoughts, she felt no warmth at all from this man. A coldness crept into her senses as he studied her cautiously, the way one studies a wild animal that has strayed too close for comfort.

"Yes," she replied. "I am Carmen Riker. Your...your granddaughter." A tenuous smile fought for life on her lips.

"I have heard of you," he said, making no attempt to return the smile. His hands clasped together behind him and his shoulders rose with a sharp intake of breath. "But you're mistaken, I'm afraid. I have no granddaughter. Now take me to my quarters, please."


	8. Her Blue Eyes

**I know these chapters have been getting kind of long inbetween posting-I'm so sorry! I'm not losing interest or anything, it's just the beginning of a busy season for us. When I'm not writing, I'm still thinking of writing haha. So please don't give up! You guys have been AWESOME and I am seriously going to go into a period of mourning when this is all over. **

**And as for our new guest-Kyle Riker-I am sort of retconning his presence in the show. A little confession of mine: I have a grudge against the Icarus Factor episode. I thought they didn't do that whole relationship justice (anyone else have strong feelings about that? Just me? lol). So this is my retelling of it haha. With Carmen and the Borg! **

* * *

_Kyle Riker stood in the waning light, listening to the priest's voice rise and fall like the soft spring breeze. A bouquet of harebells, his wife's favorite flower, rested on the glossy surface of the casket. Behind them, a sun of molten gold had settled over the Kenai mountains, and as afternoon slipped quietly into evening, Kyle sensed a piece of his heart slipping into darkness, too. _

_He had gone fishing that day, the day she died. He could still picture her working in the garden, still hear her humming that old sea tune. Nearby, their son was venturing up a young cottonwood tree..._

"He'll fall," Kyle warned. His wife merely smiled.

"Maybe. But that won't stop him."

Kyle adjusted the fishing pole tucked under his arm with a huff of exasperation. "The boy is two, Betty. Don't you think it's time to curb some of that...that recklessness?"

"No, I don't." Betty stood up from her work, wiping the back of one hand across her forehead. "It might give him a few bumps and bruises, but one day, I think it will serve him well. The way it has served you well. Now here-a kiss for luck."

Lifting onto her toes, she kissed his scowl ardently. It coaxed a smile from her husband, the kind that only she could draw out of him. "Fine, fine. I'll be back in time for supper," he promised.

And he was. But by then, it was already too late. An aneurysm, they said. An aneurysm in the brain. It was probably quick and painless. Kyle knew, however, that there would be nothing quick or painless about the coming days.

_The priest closed his Bible and set it atop a glass podium. Someone tugged on Kyle's hand, and he looked down to see a pair of bright blue eyes looking at him. "We go home, dada?" the boy whispered. _

_"Be quiet, Will." Kyle felt a lump rising in his throat. Those eyes. Those were his wife's eyes. She had always said that Will looked more like his father, but all Kyle could see now was her._

* * *

Even after all these years, Kyle still saw his wife in his son's eyes. He saw the shape of her brow, the roundness of her nose. Cruel reminders of the woman who used to make him smile. Her face was never far away, but always out of reach.

He couldn't believe how much Will had grown. Fifteen years would do that, of course. Yet for some reason, he half-expected to see the lanky teenager from his memories, the one who was always looking at the skies. Will never needed much praise or encouragement at that age; no, he was too hard-headed for that. He carved his own path, right out of Alaska, right out of that place Betty held most dear.

"Right here." Carmen's voice interrupted his ruminations, and the stiff silence. Their journey through the ship had brought them to an unassuming door at the end of an unassuming hallway. "You will stay here until the captain is ready to see you," she instructed, punching a code into the panel.

The corner of Kyle's mouth wrinkled. "Am I a prisoner, or a guest?" The door opened with a _swoosh._ Beyond it lay his assigned quarters, furnished with a standard array of bland furniture. A bed. A beige sofa. A few end tables and chairs.

"You are a guest," she answered. "A guest in_ my_ home. Do not expect me to apologize if that makes you uncomfortable." Her head turned to challenge him with a glare. Blue eyes. She had Betty's blue eyes. But something burned behind them, something sharp and bellicose, that desecrated his wife's gentle memory.

"What makes me uncomfortable..." he said, drawing his face close to those eyes that mocked his pain. She held her ground in a silent but staunch display of defiance. "...is that you knew what the Borg were capable of, and did not do enough to stop this from happening."

The young woman's chest heaved bitterly as his words burrowed into their mark. She looked away, the defiance seeping from her eyes, from her face, from her shoulders that now sagged towards the ground. Kyle looked away, too, pretending not to notice, for her wounded silence did not satisfy him the way he thought it would. She was a stranger, he told himself. Just a stranger. He couldn't afford to think otherwise.

"Tell the captain I'm ready when he is," Kyle grumbled, and crossed the threshold into his quarters. "And-as I'm sure you know-that time is of the essence." The door closed automatically behind him. Listening carefully, he could hear Carmen's trudge of defeat withdrawing from earshot. With a sigh, he leaned over the back of the nearest chair. "I hope you're still as reckless, Will," he said into the silence. "Maybe your mother was right. Maybe it will serve us all well in the end."


	9. Proposals

"I just don't understand why he's here."

Riker stared sullenly at the fish tank in the captain's ready room. Behind his back, Picard smiled faintly, having just listened to his first officer grumble about their new visitor's audacity. "To help," he replied. "In an official capacity, at least. His personal motivations are-"

"Selfish, no doubt."

"-irrelevant at the moment."

Riker turned towards the captain. "Still. How much can he even help us? He may have studied the Borg, but we have someone who's already fought that war."

"I know, Number One." Picard leaned forward in his chair. In the lamplight, shadows fell across the deep lines of his face. "But we are in an hour of need, and this is the hand being held out to us. We must not slap it away."

The captain's doorchimes sounded, and Riker found himself grateful for the interruption. When the door slid back to reveal a dejected young woman, however, guilt crept into the midst of his relief. Only then did he think of how their exchange in the shuttlebay might have taken a toll on her Betazoid sensitivities.

"Sir?" Carmen called. "He's uh, he's ready when you are."

"Very well." Picard rose from his desk, straightening the front of his uniform with a tug. "I'll head down to guest quarters for a proper introduction. Number One, call a meeting."

"Aye, sir."

"And Miss Riker-" The young woman paused, having already started to withdraw. "I would appreciate your insight as well."

A smile flitted briefly across her face. "Yes, sir." Then, stepping aside as the captain left ahead of them, she waited for her father. "Hey, um, dad?"

Riker's shoulders sank as he approached her, casting off the mantle of commander for something much softer. "Hey yourself. Holding up okay?"

"Well I was just wondering...do you have any pictures of your mother?"

The question caught him off-guard. "My mother? Uh, the computer should have some on file. Why?"

"Do I look like her?"

"Do you…?" Again her question made him blank for a few moments. "I don't-where is this coming from? Did he say something to you?"

"Not exactly. It's just...the way he looked at me, it reminded me of…" Carmen hesitated. "Never mind. It's fine," she insisted, a little too quickly, and her lips pursed together to hold back any other words. Her arms followed suit, folding up across her chest like a vault.

Riker reached for her shoulder. "No, Carmen, it's not fine. Come here." She didn't attempt a protest as he pulled her in for a hug. "I'm sorry, you know," he said. "I shouldn't have walked out of the shuttlebay like that. He's my problem, not yours. Okay?" He felt her nod against him. Then, as she pulled away, he placed a knuckle under her chin. His brow furrowed deeply in a study of her face.

"Nah," he said at last. "You look like _your_ mother. That's all I see, anyway. Except for your eyes-you and Billy got that dazzling color from me." He smiled at her warmly. "Now let's go. The captain needs you, remember."

She returned the smile, and its warmth. But as she fell into step behind him, the smile vanished. Carmen was aware of how much she looked like her mother. She knew it, even as a little girl. It's why that pain when Kyle looked into her blue eyes felt so familiar. _It reminded me of you. _

* * *

A veil of pink light rested delicately over the observation lounge, but dark were the faces that surrounded a long, glossy table inside. Laforge had just finished reporting on the ship's condition, with the final tally of casualties from their first encounter. Seventeen. Seventeen families to notify.

Then Kyle Riker took the floor, describing Leyton's desperate call and his endeavor to find them despite the council's belief that the Enterprise had been destroyed.

"You mean to say-" Laforge leaned forward, his voice laced with incredulity. "You flew right past the Borg ship on your way here? And they did nothing?"

"It was perfectly safe." Kyle nudged his chin towards Carmen. "_She_ can tell you that."

The gazes of the room shifted her direction. "It's true," she said, begrudgingly agreeing with him. "One man in an unarmed shuttlecraft wouldn't matter to them. They prefer to assimilate large groups at a time."

"How long will they wait, do you suppose?" Picard asked.

"I don't know." Carmen glanced nervously at the ethereal light drifting in through the windows. It fell across the table in a series of pink squares. "But when they're tired of waiting, they'll flush us out of here."

A sigh, low and plaintive, made its way around the table. Carmen closed her eyes, trying to keep it from reaching her Betazoid senses. A wall took shape in her mind, soft enough to lean against, yet strong enough to hold back the rising tide of despair. But she had not built it. Opening her eyes again, she looked across the table and found her mother's smile. _Thank you._

Picard pushed away from his seat to pace before the row of windows, and against the brightly colored clouds, he appeared as nothing more than a weary shadow. "Mister Riker-" he said at length. "I can presume that the council received our last transmission, before we entered the nebula?"

"Yes," Kyle answered. "Leyton is ordering a fleet to assemble near Wolf 359, should the Borg turn their attention towards Earth."

"No!" Carmen nearly leapt out of her seat. "They would be slaughtered! Our current ships aren't equipped-"

"What would you propose?" Kyle snorted. "To leave Earth defenseless, as your council did?"

A snarl wrenched the side of Carmen's mouth. "Evacuation," she said. "_That's_ what I would propose."

"Evacuate Earth?" Dr. Crusher balked at the prospect. "The entire population?"

Kyle scoffed, waving a dismissive hand towards the young woman. "Leyton assured me that you would have valuable input, and this is your advice? Turn tail and run?"

"_Dad_," Riker warned.

But the shot had already been fired. "How can we win a war if there's no one left to fight? Don't you see-" Carmen slammed her hands down onto the table. "It'd be the same thing all over again! I _know_ where this road leads! Captain-"

"Sit down," Picard ordered.

"But, sir-"

"I said sit down." This time, his tone was sharp enough to wilt the young woman's defiance. "I would remind you that Mister Riker is merely the messenger. Besides, we can do nothing from inside of this nebula." She sank into her seat, silently seething. "And I would remind_ you_-" Picard continued, locking eyes with the senior Riker. "-that Carmen has been a source of invaluable input."

"With all due respect sir, she is a soldier," Kyle retorted. Carmen growled under her breath. "Not an engineer. Or a military strategist, for that matter."

"Now see here-" Riker's glare cut a scalding path across the table. "It was her knowledge that enabled us to escape in the first place. If Geordi hadn't modified our phaser cannons, we would have never been able to break free from the Borg's tractor beam."

"Modified?" Kyle leaned back, cool under his son's fire. His brow drew together with intrigue. "How so?"

Further down the table, Laforge perked up. "We adjusted the frequency spread to a high narrowband."

"What difference would that make?"

"Their ships run off power distribution nodes," Carmen explained. Though she was answering Kyle, she looked between her captain and her father as she spoke. "Those are the only frequencies that have any sort of effect on them."

"And...it worked?"

"I mean, it didn't leave a mark." Laforge blew out a weary sigh. "But it bought us enough time to get away."

"Well what about a...a concentrated burst of power?" Kyle offered. "Something with a little more kick. Would that leave a mark?"

Laforge shook his head. "I don't think our phaser banks could deliver that kind of power." He started to blow out another sigh, then stopped short. "Unless…"

"Unless what, Geordi?" Riker pressed. He could practically hear the wheels turning in the lieutenant's mind.

"The main deflector dish...yeah! We could use the main deflector dish!"

"No," the commander said, cutting short the little wisps of hope that had begun to rise around him. "The deflector dish is short-range. We'd take ourselves out in a blast like that."

"Not if we increased the deflector's range," Laforge pointed out.

Picard returned to the table. He placed his palms down on the cool surface, his fingers touching the edge of a bright pink square. "You could do that, Mister Laforge?"

"Yes, sir. I would need to install higher capacity power transfers-"

The captain cut him off with a curt nod. "Make it so."


	10. Taking a Walk

**Jleto-Thank you for the kind words! And you're definitely right about that haha, Troi moms don't let that crap go! I think you're going to enjoy this chapter ;-)**

**Zara08-Hahaha poor Picard indeed! I hope this winter isn't as bad for you as it was for us, oh my gosh I thought it would never end. I'll try to speed up my pace so you always have something to read! :-) I really miss when I was posting 2-3 times a week, hoping to get back to that! **

**JWood201-No, not a lame review at all! All of your reviews have been amazing, and I look forward to each one :-)**

* * *

As the meeting dispersed, a new and brittle sense of hope seemed to settle over the bridge. One by one, officers returned to their posts. Kyle Riker paused on his way out, holding an upturned hand towards his son. "Will, a few words…"

But the commander ignored his entreaty, returning to the helm with his father staring forlornly after him. Then someone brushed past Kyle, jostling his shoulder. Carmen made her way to her own station without so much as a look back. Indignant, Kyle was about to make a retort when someone drew up alongside him. "I'm sorry," Troi said, and his anger quickly dissipated in the sweet sincerity of her smile.

"Quite alright," he assured, glancing sideways at her for a discreet study. She was a beautiful woman, by anyone's standards. Elegant, sophisticated, dainty even. What on Earth was she doing with a couple of hotheads like Will and Carmen? As they entered the turbolift together, he couldn't help but wonder how often she had to apologize for their behavior. "I'm just not sure what Picard was thinking," he sighed, "allowing that girl back on the bridge after what happened to her old captain."

The doors closed and all around them, the elevator thrummed to life with its smooth descent. "Oh, I wasn't apologizing for Carmen," Troi replied. "I was saying I'm sorry that a man as old and lonely as you would sabotage his relationship with the only family he's got left."

Kyle's blood ran cold. Small as she was, her shadow seemed to loom over him suddenly. _I was wrong. There's nothing at all dainty about her._ "Counselor," he protested. "I know you have developed a rapport with the girl. But she...she is not from here. She is not family. Surely you must understand that?"

"And how would you define family?" she replied. "A son you haven't seen in fifteen years who wants nothing to do with you?"

He felt his face reddening beneath the turbolift's bright lights. _How much longer is this damn elevator going to take?_ "Do not presume to understand what we've been through-"

"It hurts, when you look at Will. You see your wife. You see a reminder of what you lost." The sound of her voice cut through him with graceful ease. "That's why you pushed him away, isn't it?"

"I don't remember scheduling a counseling session," he sneered. "But look here, Will was-"

"-stronger than you, given the chance. Where Carmen is from, he held onto that reminder of what he lost. He loved his daughter for it."

"I loved Will, too. Let's get that straight." Beneath his feet, Kyle felt the elevator come to a stop. But even as the doors opened, her gaze would not let him go.

"Carmen is like him, you know," she continued. "Because she had a whole ship full of faces to remind her of what she lost, and still, she chose to love. That makes her more than a soldier. That makes her more than you, even. Let's get _that_ straight."

Now the silence cut through him, too. His jawline tightened. His shoulders drew up to their full height. "You're in my way, counselor," he growled.

"I am not in your way," she said, stepping aside as she sent him another smile. Its sincerity had not withered over the course of their exchange. "And neither is Carmen. I wish you could see that."

* * *

Kyle found little solace in Ten Forward. The atmosphere, like the muted murmur of conversation, felt unusually subdued. A pink and orange glow emanating from the windows failed to enchant him. For now, it merely stood as a luminous reminder of their imprisonment.

Every now and then someone stopped by to give Kyle their greetings. He recognized a few of the patrons from various missions and assignments he'd completed over the years. But he hadn't come to Ten Forward for their polite smiles, their mindless small talk. He had come there to let his anger simmer.

Troi's words dug into his thoughts. Who the hell did she think she was, bringing Betty into this? How dare she say aloud that which he had so carefully failed to acknowledge.

"Must run in the family," someone said. Kyle looked up into the face of a woman with rick, dark skin. Though her eyes looked kind enough, a cunning smile perched on the corner of her mouth.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Brooding. It must run in the family."

Kyle picked up his glass, watching neon blue Tarrin juice swirl around the bottom. "Who said I was brooding?"

"I've been a bartender for a long time, Mister Riker."

An irritable sigh escaped his lips as he shifted in his seat. "Do you mind? All I want is to finish my drink in peace."

That cunning smile leapt full across her face. "But that's not all you want, is it?"

"Did Counselor Troi put you up to this?" Kyle looked around the room, almost expecting to see the counselor pop out from behind a plant or a chair. "Look, I'm done grieving. I closed that door. I just wish...I wish Will would recognize how much strength that took."

"You can close the door on grief," she said, leaning her elbows over the counter. "But it will peek in through the window. Strength is going outside your walls, not hiding behind them. Strength is taking a walk with your grief. Have you tried that?"

Kyle drained the last of his juice, wishing it were an Acamarian brandy or something stronger. "What I've tried is Tarrin juice," he said, steering the conversation somewhere safe, somewhere painless. "But it was a little too bitter for my liking. What do you suggest next, bartender?"

"I suggest taking a walk," she said, and pushed off the counter with a wheeze of effort. Her burgundy robe billowed out behind her, following her to the other side of the bar where patrons awaited their orders.

Grumbling under his breath, Kyle left Ten Forward in a huff. But as he walked down the corridor, it didn't take long for his exasperation to turn inward. Betty would have hated to see it all come to this. He could almost hear the lecture she would have given him for letting fifteen years, a wedding, and a baby go by without so much as a call.

What would she think of Carmen, he wondered? Would she have welcomed the girl with open arms? Probably. She treated everyone like family. Kyle could picture her showing the young woman her China collection, each bowl and plate adorned with painted versions of her beloved harebell flowers. As for Billy, not even the Borg would have been able to keep her away from her only grandson.

And Troi-oh, she would have loved Troi. The counselor was just like Betty's closest friends, who were always insisting that she deserved better. They were right, of course. She _did_ deserve better than him.

Suddenly, Kyle found himself in front of a door that was not his own. He hadn't expected his walk to take him there; it was as though his feet had followed his thoughts of their own accord. While he wavered on whether or not to ring the bell, a thought danced briefly across his mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to what Troi had said. Maybe, just maybe, Will deserved better than him, too.

The door opened before he could make up his mind. "I don't remember scheduling a counseling session," Troi quipped, leaning against the threshold with folded arms.

"May I come in anyway?" he asked. She stared at him evenly, and he could feel those Betazoid eyes prying his lips loose. "You...you said some interesting things back there."

"Did I?"

"Some..._correct_ things."

Troi nodded, a gentle smile curving her lips. She moved further into the room, beckoning him to follow. "Come on in."


	11. Little Brothers and Milestones

**Hey guys! Unfortunately, this chapter was delayed due to a serious injury. I was sparring after class and finally managed to get into top position. Decided to go for something called an ezekiel choke. My opponent trapped one of my arms and one of my legs and started to roll (it's a common escape, something we've both done hundreds of times). Well this time, for whatever reason, my left hand got twisted as he trapped it so that when he rolled, it snapped my forearm in two. We both heard a pop and a crunch, and when we separated, my hand just sort of flopped back so that my fingers were laying against the top of my arm. My sensei drove me to the hospital right away, and I passed out as soon as we got inside. The rest is kind of a blur. They had to perform emergency surgery and now I have a titanium plate and seven screws drilled into my arm. It will be four months until I can use it again, so no more sparring for now. Also, I'm left-handed, so I have to learn how to eat and write with my non-dominant hand in the meantime. I still plan on doing solo drills in jiu-jitsu until I'm fully recovered, but I won't be going twice a day like before. On the bright side, this will give me more time for my other passion, writing! My goal is to post 1-2 chapters a week from now on so that I don't have time to mope lol. Those of you who are still reading-thanks for sticking with me! It means the world.**

* * *

Carmen tugged at the collar of her uniform, finding it difficult to focus on the screen of her console. Numbers and percentages scrolled by, laying out a precise list of the ship's weapons and defense systems. Their shields were back online, but at only forty-six percent, they would be virtually useless in another encounter with the Borg. Even at a hundred percent, Carmen didn't want to think of their odds.

All night long, she had seen pieces of the Enterprise, the old Enterprise, drifting through her sleep. She heard her scream that filled the harrowing silence of those final moments. Sometimes, that scream transcended her nightmares and filled Sheppard's quarters, too. But time and again, she felt his hand wrap around hers as she teetered on the edge of sleep. One, two, three squeezes. _I'm here_. And she'd wake up to find hope still within reach.

Laforge's plan brought that hope a little bit closer to her fingertips. But the deflector dish was still hours away from being ready, and so anxiously, she watched every minute of her shift crawl by. _Just a little longer...just a little longer..._

Someone's station trilled loudly. Tension vibrated in the air, and she could almost hear the unspoken question crouching behind every tongue._ Is this it?_

One of the science officers, Ensign Bryant, flashed a sheepish smile over his shoulder. "Just finishing a diagnostic," he explained. As the cloud of alarm dissipated from all around her, Carmen rubbed her temples. It felt like the edges of her Betazoid senses were beginning to fray.

Everyone's attention returned to their own stations. Everyone, that is, except for the commander. He caught Carmen's eye just long enough to give her a subtle nod, then eased back into his seat beside the captain. Something sturdy, something steadfast, drifted towards the young woman's mind and she grasped hold of it gratefully. He hadn't meant to send it; not telepathically at least. But she remembered how, as a young girl, his strength had always kept her afloat in uncertain waters. After every attack, when panic and fear still resonated across the ship in great waves, she'd shadow his every move throughout their small quarters. She'd even fall asleep at the foot of his desk as he worked late into the night, wrapping her mind around his presence so that the nightmares couldn't pull her away.

_Thanks. I needed that_, she tried to tell him, even though he could never hear her the way her mother could. To Carmen's surprise, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side, and she could have sworn that a hint of a smile wrinkled the corner of his lips. Then Picard leaned over to begin some sort of hushed conversation with his first officer. Carmen watched them furtively, letting her senses hover above the two men sitting at the helm.

Their minds felt heavy, laden with a responsibility to the ship, to their people. But beneath those burdens, she could sense a persevering courage, a stubborn hope, which separated them from all other men. They would not be so easily swayed by this storm. _Neither will I_, she decided, casting one final glance at the men before resuming her work.

An hour passed. Then two. Then three. About one eternity later, Carmen found her shift halfway over. An ensign appeared to relieve her temporarily, and while she almost turned him down, her stomach reminded her (loudly) that she had skipped breakfast when she left Sheppard's quarters that morning.

"Hold up!" someone called as she entered the turbolift. Her father wedged himself inside just as the doors were beginning to close. "I thought I'd take a break, too," he said. "Going to see Allan?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I was going to see if he's up yet. He worked pretty late, and...well...it was a long night for everyone, I suppose."

"Mind if I come with?" he asked, but something in his smile told her he wasn't really asking. Carmen raised an eyebrow.

"You...want to see Allan?"

Riker shrugged. He was hiding something, and whatever it was, it seemed to amuse him.

"Ah. I see," Carmen said. "This is one of your little surprises, isn't it?"

A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "It isn't fair, you know, living with two empaths. Well, don't worry-it's a good one."

They were all good ones. Like Troi's birthday last year, when he put on a concert in Ten Forward with all of her favorite songs. He even convinced Carmen to get up there with her trombone, and while she soured some of the notes, everyone gave them a standing ovation at the end. Or the time when Carmen was upset about being disqualified from a _qa'vak_ competition (on the grounds that she was human, not Klingon), so Riker designed one in the holodeck for her. Worf coached her from the sidelines and she finished in third place. While she turned down Riker's trophy at first, calling it a fake, it sat on her bedside table to this day.

Carmen didn't know what he had in mind that morning, especially with everything else going on. But as they neared Sheppard's door, it soon became clear why Riker had followed her there. Peals of laughter rang out, as warm and golden as the Alaskan sun on a summer day. Carmen's jaw fell open, for she knew that laughter well. "Billy?"

When the door slid back, she discovered her little brother lying on top of a soft blanket. Sheppard sat cross-legged beside him, flying a toy plane through the air with sputtering sound effects. Every now and then he'd land the plane on the tip of Billy's nose, and it would send the baby into a squealing fit of laughter all over again.

"Billy!" Carmen exclaimed, rushing into the room.

Sheppard looked up, the plane frozen mid-flight. "Oh! Hey!"

Billy turned his head towards the sound of his sister's voice. His bright blue eyes followed her to the edge of his blanket, and he babbled joyously as she tucked him into her arms. "I love it, but- what is he doing here?"

"The commander dropped him off," Sheppard explained. Carmen's smile faltered.

"Wait a minute-" She looked over her shoulder at Riker. "Weren't you supposed to drop him off with Hannah?"

"I didn't feel like it." He shrugged, ignoring the way her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Does mom know?"

"Hey," he scolded, giving his uniform an indignant tug. "I have just as much say as your mother, and I'm perfectly capable of making decisions when it comes to my own children. But...yeah. She said it was okay."

Laughing, Carmen wrapped her finger around one of the dark curls framing her little brother's cheek. "So you guys have just been here all morning, having fun?"

Sheppard stood nearby, tossing the toy plane back and forth between his hands. "Oh yeah, it's been a blast. Hasn't it, kiddo?" Suddenly he straightened. "Hey! You guys won't believe what he did today! Watch this-" Carefully, he took Billy from her arms and placed him back down on the blanket. With Carmen and Riker exchanging curious glances, he held the plane above the baby's head, just out of reach. "Come on, you've got this," he urged.

Billy reached for it, and as he did, Sheppard moved the plane in an arc towards the ground. Billy followed, with much grunting and straining, until he rolled all the way over onto his fat little belly. "There you go!" Sheppard praised, and set the plane in front of him. With a triumphant growl, Billy shoved the toy into his mouth to gnaw on the plastic propeller.

Riker's applause thundered throughout the room. Carmen staggered back in disbelief. As she neared the door, it opened automatically behind her. Still she continued to back away, coming to a stop only once she bumped against the opposite wall. "Dunlap!" she shouted suddenly, disappearing in the direction of some hapless officer on his way to work. "Dunlap, get over here!"

She came back into view, dragging a bewildered-looking young man behind her. "Allan, make him do it again!" she ordered, shoving her newfound hostage inside. Stifling a laugh, Sheppard gently pried the toy from Billy's hands and held it out in front of him. This time, he moved the plane in an arc towards the ceiling, and as Billy stretched his arms to follow, he flopped from his stomach to his back.

"Did you see that? Dunlap, _did you see that?_" Carmen cried, shaking him violently in her excitement.

"Yes, um, wow," he said, glancing at the commander for help. "How-how old is he now?"

"Only four months!" Carmen let him go and scooped her little brother off the floor, holding him proud and aloft. "Us Rikers are always ahead of the curve, aren't we?"

Dunlap straightened his disheveled uniform. "Four months, did you say? But isn't that normally when babies roll-"

"Thanks Dunlap, it was good seeing you!" Sheppard ushered him quickly out the door, thanking him profusely to drown out the ensign's protests. Of course that was normally when babies rolled over. But in Carmen's eyes, everything her little brother did was miraculous, and nobody had the heart to tell her otherwise. Nobody except for the unwitting Dunlap, apparently.

Riker sent Sheppard a discreetly grateful smile. "Hey, has Deanna seen this yet?"

"No sir," Sheppard answered. "We've been here the whole time. And I replicated some mashed fruit for his lunch-"

"Mom! Oh, we have to tell mom!" Carmen shouted, thrusting the baby into Sheppard's arms. "Hurry Allan, maybe we can catch her between appointments! Come on dad, come on!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he laughed, although Carmen had already dashed out the door. She raced ahead, clearing a path through the multitude of bewildered bystanders. Sheppard followed, placating the crowd with apologetic smiles. From his arms, Billy whooped with delight, excited to be on this sudden adventure through the halls.

Approaching the counselor's door at last, Carmen crashed into the panel with a frantic ringing of the chimes. "Mom! Mom! Open up!"

The door swished open and Carmen went barreling inside. "Mom, you won't believe it! Guess who just-" She stopped in her tracks. Her mother rose from the sofa, a greeting perched on the tip of her tongue. Across from her, a man scrambled to his feet as well. A snarl curled Carmen's lips as soon as she recognized him. "What is _he _doing here?" she demanded.

But Kyle didn't seem to hear her. He took a step towards Sheppard and the baby, who had just come in behind the young woman. "Is that...is that him?" he asked.

"What, you mean Allan?" Carmen said, making a clumsy attempt to obscure her little brother from view.

"Please." Kyle continued his encroach, and his hands turned up in a plea. "May I hold my grandson?"

Sheppard glanced questioningly between the two women. "It's alright," Troi said, more so to Carmen than to Sheppard.

A funny little sigh escaped Kyle's lips as he gathered Billy into his arms. "He...he has blue eyes," he noted, barely loud enough for the others to hear. With a tenderness that seemed unbefitting and almost foreign to the old strategist, he brushed a knuckle down the side of the baby's face.

"Dad?" Riker's voice boomed from the doorway, where he had finally managed to catch up with them. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Will!" When Kyle looked up, a spark of light caught the corner of his eye where a tear had begun to form. "I...we were just…"

"We were just having a cup of tea," Troi finished for him, positioning herself between the two men. "Would you like some, imzadi?"

Sheppard tugged on Carmen's hand. "Did the commander just call him 'dad?'" he whispered. She gave him a look that said_ I'll explain later._

"No, I don't want tea. I want to know what business he has-"

"We all share the same business right now. Here, have a cup." Troi stared at him evenly as she closed his fingers around a hot mug. _Give him a chance. He came here willing to share our fate, whatever that may be._

Riker accepted the cup without removing his eyes from Kyle. _My father's never shared anything in his life. _

_You'd be surprised, how much he just shared with me. He's hurting, Will._

"He...he looks so much like you did, at this age," Kyle said, and a weak smile flitted across his lips. "I heard about it, when he was born. You had him on Betazed, didn't you?"

Riker didn't answer. Instead he stalked over to the window, blotting out a patch of pink light with his sullen silhouette. "That's right," Troi replied, reaching out to halt Carmen's restless pacing. The young woman stopped, but kept a watchful eye on her little brother. As she watched, a change seemed to come over the hardened old man. A warmth seeped into his features, thawing those sharp and rugged edges that had fended her off at first. Billy grabbed hold of his chin, trying to pull him closer, and a few of his little fingers worked their way into the corner of Kyle's mouth. He laughed in surprise, a sincere sound that made Billy gurgle happily in reply. Carmen turned away from the scene, stinging with betrayal. It was bad enough to think of her mother drinking tea with the _k'pekt_. But her baby brother, making him laugh?

"I uh, I heard Betazed has some of the most exotic plantlife," Kyle continued. "Betty...she loved flowers, you know. Remember her garden, Will?"

"I remember the cottonwood tree you chopped down," he retorted. "Punishment for breaking my arm."

Kyle winced. "I wasn't punishing you, Will. I...I was trying to keep you safe. You were always such a reckless kid." A sadly wistful laugh tumbled from his lips. "But that didn't keep you safe. All you did was go off to find other trees to climb."

Riker started to turn around, then stopped, holding tightly to his grudges.

"Harebells," Kyle said. "That was her favorite part of the garden. Remember? Purple harebells."

"_Campanula rotundifolia_," Sheppard said. Everyone's attention turned suddenly towards him, as though they had forgotten he was still in the room. "That's...their official name," he added, his voice trailing off into a whisper.

"It sure is," Kyle said, studying the young man with something akin to approval. "And what's your name?"

"Ensign Sheppard, sir," he said, holding out his hand. Slowly, awkwardly, he retracted his hand when he realized that Kyle could not shake it while holding the baby.

Carmen rolled her eyes. _Not you, too, Allan!_ With a loud sigh, she marched over to the window to share one last scrap of solidarity with her father.

"Are you a botanist, Mister Sheppard?" Kyle asked.

"Hm? Oh, uh, I'm an engineer," he replied, staring worriedly after Carmen. "But my mom was a botanist."

"He works in the ship's arboretum on his days off," Troi said. "Carmen too, sometimes. Though I think there's a petition going around to ban her from ever touching another plant."

She shot her mother a scowl. "You'd think I killed her firstborn, not a bunch of stupid flowers," she muttered.

Sheppard cracked a grin, recalling how he had to put in extra hours to make up for the trail of destruction Carmen left behind in the wake of her "help." Eventually they decided that just as bat'leth lessons weren't for Sheppard, gardening wasn't a hobby that suited the young woman.

"I never had a green thumb, either," Kyle admitted. "Tried my damnedest to keep Betty's flowers alive after...afterwards. But I didn't have her touch, I guess. She was a natural with stuff like that. Kind of..kind of like you, counselor."

Slowly, Carmen turned her face towards the senior Riker. Her mother smiled, but not at him. She was watching her daughter softly, waiting it seemed. _What exactly did you two talk about? _

The floor bucked suddenly. Carmen's feet shot out from beneath her and she went crashing into her father. Billy cried out, frightened by the klaxons that sounded above. "_All bridge officers return to your posts,"_ came the urgent order.

Riker helped Carmen up, just as another shockwave rocked the Enterprise. Outside the window, they saw orange bursts of light exploding against the ship's shields. "What's going on?" she cried, clinging to his arm.

"I don't know." He squared his jaw with grim determination. "But let's go find out."

"What about them?" She peered across the darkened room, searching for the rest of her family. Troi stood on one side of Kyle, Sheppard on the other, bracing him against every impact as he clutched Billy to his chest. While her mother's worry filled up the room, touching every wall and rising to the ceiling, Carmen felt anger welling in the pit of her stomach. The Borg didn't care about broken families trying to heal. They didn't care about little brothers and milestones. They just took and took until there was nothing left. And they had already taken everything from her once.

"Go on," Kyle urged. He looked Carmen in the eye, and to her amazement, she caught a faded glimpse of that persevering courage, that stubborn hope, she thought exclusive to her father and the captain. "They'll be alright. I promise."


	12. A Direct Hit

**A/N: Zara08-Glad you liked it :-) And thanks for the commiseration! Yeah, I guess I'm part machine now. My husband has been calling me Bionic Woman, so that's cool LOL. I was totally picturing that Keiko scene, too hahaha.**

**Guest-You are so sweet! Thank you for the encouragement. Good to know I have such kind and patient readers:-)**

**JWood201-Haha well half of it was already written before the injury. But I typed all of this chapter with my non-dominant hand! And I'm also kind of nervous that there are random typos. Capitalizing is a pain in the butt. Anyway, I just loved your review, thanks as always! :-) The whole "but yeah she said it was okay" part was my husband's favorite line, too hahaha. I told him how you wanted that scene with Keiko as a one shot, and he was like "You're not capable of writing a one-shot." Which...is fair lol. All my stuff always ends up a million chapters long. BUT I might try a few one shots after this is over!**

**Jleto-Aww thank you so much! Hahaha yeah especially once I get back into jiu-jitsu, performing some of the chokes with a titanium plate in my arm will not feel good for my opponents. Which works for me LOL. Thanks so much for your kind review, and your well wishes! **

* * *

Riker and Carmen tumbled out of the turbolift together, the floor beneath them heaving like the surface of an unruly ocean.

"What is it, sir?" Riker called, hastening down the ramp.

Picard turned his shoulders to face them, and relief smoothed the lines of his face to see the commander again. "Magneto-electric guided charges," he replied. "I believe they are flushing us out of the nebula, just as Carmen predicted."

"Took them long enough," Riker grumbled, settling into his seat. Picard smiled faintly, heartened as always by the way his first officer's courage so often came across as impudence.

The ship pitched violently to one side, rattling Carmen's nerves. An alert flashed across her screen. "Direct hit. Deck nine."

Riker gripped the edge of his chair to keep from spilling out of it. "Damage?"

"Structural latching-" Another explosion threw Carmen asunder. She grabbed hold of her console and pulled herself upright. "Structural latching system integrity breached," she reported.

"Prepare to take us out of here, Number One." Picard stared straight ahead, steeling himself against the grim possibilities that awaited them.

"Fire up the engines!" Riker bellowed. "Half impulse til we're clear of the nebula. Then get us to warp nine as fast as you can."

"Ready phasers, load torpedo bays," Picard added.

The litany of orders spurred each officer into action. Fear took a seat in the back of Carmen's mind, making way for her well-honed instincts. All around her, the air crackled with anticipation. The waiting would soon be over. And at last, it would be time to fight.

Darkness seeped between tendrils of pink and orange that curled across the viewscreen. Slowly, cautiously, the Enterprise approached the edge of the nebula. A cube-shaped silhouette, hulking and ominous, hung in the silken cloak of space just beyond. A predator waiting for its prey.

"Now!"

The ship thrust forward, its engines straining to reach warp speed. Distant stars stretched out into streaks of light. The Borg ship followed, effortlessly it seemed, bearing down upon the fleeing ship.

"Fire at will." As the captain gave the order, Carmen's heart thumped against her chest. _Now. Now it begins._ Her fingers, which had been quivering above the controls, danced swiftly across the screen in a trained pattern. The floor shook beneath her feet with every torpedo, every phaser blast, that burst against their enemy's armored sides. But the Borg ship did not slow its pursuit. It began to close in, firing ruthlessly upon the smaller ship. Carmen watched, her teeth clenched tightly, as their shields crumbled before her very eyes. Forty percent. Thirty percent. Fifteen percent.

"Captain-" Ensign Bryant broke the anxious silence. "I'm picking up something strange on the scanners. Traces of a recent ion trail."

"An ion trail?" Picard repeated.

"Yes, sir. There was another ship here. Starfleet signature."

The captain rubbed pensively at his chin. "Perhaps they sent another ship after us?"

"Then where are they?" Riker asked. "Why didn't the Borg go after them?"

"Sir!" A dire warning flashed across Carmen's screen. "The shields have failed. Damage to the Borg ship is negligible. We...we've got nothing left."

Riker lunged to his feet. "Riker to Laforge," he paged, hurriedly tapping at his combadge. "The deflector dish?"

"_It's not ready, sir. I'm sorry_."

The way Riker's hands fell to his sides seemed to echo the lieutenant's sentiment._ I'm sorry_. Carmen heard him in her own head. Somewhere, somehow, she knew that her mother heard him, too. An image flickered across her mind, an image of Billy cradled tightly in the counselor's arms. Sheppard crouched protectively nearby, while Kyle had wedged himself in the doorway, phaser drawn and ready.

A shriek of surprise pierced the air, bringing Carmen's mind back to the bridge. There, in front of the captain, a Borg had appeared. Its gray flesh, stretched over a bony frame, reminded Carmen of a corpse. Its dead eyes stared straight ahead. Its bionic arm lifted towards Picard.

A beam of energy flew from Riker's phaser, hitting the drone square in the chest. It fell to the floor without a cry. A second and third one materialized, stepping over the body with callous indifference. This time, it was Carmen's phaser that made them fall into a twisted heap of flesh and metal.

Three more took their place. Riker shot down two of them, but the third one merely paused momentarily under his fire. A shield around its body absorbed the beam of energy before it continued its march across the helm. "They've adapted!" Carmen cried.

Riker rushed the drone, aiming a wide and devastating blow at its temple. A blow like that would have jarred a Klingon, but the drone held its ground. With one flick of its arm, Riker sailed backwards through the air. His head struck the corner of his chair and he slumped to the ground, out cold.

"_No!_" Carmen screamed, leaping over her console. She crashed into the drone, and as they clattered to the floor together, she slipped her _daqtagh_ into her hand. With a vicious cry, she plunged the dagger into the drone's chest.

"Captain!" She heard the desperate strain of Bryant's voice behind her. Carmen's head whipped around to find that another drone had materialized beside the captain. It touched something to his neck and they both disappeared before she could even shout a warning. The drone beneath her vanished as well, leaving a confused and fragmented crew on the bridge of the Enterprise. Klaxons continued to blare overhead, but for a few moments, nobody had wits enough to move.

"Dad? Dad!" Carmen raced over to her father's side. As she shook his shoulder, trying to rouse him, she could hear her mother calling for him in the echoes of her mind. Fear strangled the words in her throat. _Can you hear me? You heard me before, I know you did. You need to get up, dad. Please get up._

A groan passed through his lips. Carmen sighed with relief. Ducking under his arm, she tried to pull him up, but her legs shuddered beneath his weight. Bryant came around the other side, and together they set the commander back on his feet.

Once he was steady enough, Carmen dashed back to her station. "The Borg ship has disengaged," she reported. "They're altering course. Dad...they have Picard."

Riker ran a hand over the swollen lump on his jaw. "Maintain pursuit," he rasped, staggering back to his seat. "Riker to O'Brien. Can you get a fix on the captain?"

"_Negative, sir. There's some sort of interference."_

"No…" Carmen stared at her screen in horror. "The course they're setting…it's for Sector 001." She tried to swallow the tremble in her voice. "That means they're headed for...for..."

"Earth." As the word rolled off Riker's tongue, Carmen felt it land in every heart with a thud. "They're headed for Earth."


	13. Making It So

"Sit still," Crusher chided. "I'm almost done."

Riker murmured something under his breath, casting an impatient glance over his shoulder. He had ordered all senior officers to assemble on the bridge, and already discussions were beginning near the monitors behind tactical. Discussions that, as acting captain now, required his input.

"What was that? Sorry, it's a little loud in here." Taking hold of his chin, Crusher forced him to look forward again. He scowled from beneath her tricorder. She wasn't sorry at all.

"I said we have more important matters at the moment." He waved at the device the same way he would shoo a fly. "I'm fine, Beverly. Really."

"You're _almost_ fine," she corrected. "Now sit still, I won't tell you again."

"Will!" Troi's worried voice strained above the chaos. "Will, are you alright?" She rushed to his side, probing his mind for the answer before he could reply.

"Yes, I am. Could you please tell Beverly for me? We need to figure out-"

"Tilt your head down," Crusher ordered.

"We need to figure out a_ plan_," he finished, tucking his chin towards his chest. He tried not to flinch as she touched a knot on the back of his head.

"And we will," Troi promised, stroking his arm. "Once Beverly is done."

"Et tu, Deanna?" he grumbled.

Kyle watched the scene from above. He had wanted to rush down there with Troi, but knew that the commander would not accept his concern as readily. For years he had observed his son from a distance. He had read every piece of communication that so much as mentioned the Enterprise. And during those ominous lapses of silence when a mission carried them out of reach, he waited on pins and needles sharpened with regret to hear that his son was alright.

Surely he could wait a little longer, and from a distance much shorter, to know that his son was still alright. At least he was in the capable hands of Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi. Even the Riker family stubbornness was no match for women of that caliber. With a faint smile, Kyle backed away from the curved railing.

As he did so, his foot stumbled over something, and he looked down to see a small boot retreating under the tactical console. Slowly, he crouched down to investigate. "Carmen?" he called, surprised to see her hiding there.

The young woman sat with her back pressed against the railing and her knees drawn to her chest. She rolled a blue stone between her palms in a nervous, repetitive ritual. Though she had been staring blankly ahead, his voice seemed to reach her. Carmen's hands grew still, the rock lodged between them. "They took him," she uttered, without any breath it seemed.

"I know." Word of the captain's abduction had already rippled across the ship. "But we're still on their tail. We can still get him back."

Her eyes slid towards Kyle's face, devoid of the defiance he had grown accustomed to seeing there. "They only assimilate large groups. That's what I told him. Why...why would they do this?"

Kyle swallowed hard. Nothing he had learned in his own study of the Borg suggested an answer. "I don't know, but you need to get up. Now. You're no good to Will like this."

He stood up straight, motioning sharply for her to follow. She glared at him for a moment, unsure of whether to feel annoyed or grateful, but crawled to her feet anyway before she could make up her mind.

"Alright, Geordi," the commander's voice boomed. Riker made his way up the ramp, pushing a hand through his thick, dark hair. The bridge fell silent, looking to their commander for direction, for orders, for assurance. "How much longer until the deflector dish is ready?"

The engineer crossed his feet as he leaned against one of the monitors. "A few hours. I know, I know, I'll get it done in less than two somehow. But commander, I'm going to need serious power from the warp engines to make this weapon work."

"Then what do you suggest? If we drop out of warp, we'll lose them."

"We need to make_ them_ drop out of warp," Kyle proposed.

Riker's eyes narrowed. "Our weapons are ineffective against them. And in case you haven't noticed, we have no shields left. Should we start something up again-"

"Not from our ship-from theirs. They'll ignore an unarmed shuttlecraft, remember?"

"We can do better than that," Worf said, looking up from one of the screens. His voice rumbled with a Klingon thirst for vengeance. "Since they have crippled our defenses, we seem to be of no more concern to them. We can beam directly aboard."

Deep in thought, Riker ran his fingers through his beard. "Fine," he said at last. His arms lowered resolutely to his sides. "I'll lead an away team. We'll locate the captain and find a way to bring them out of warp."

"Absolutely_ not!_" Kyle protested.

Riker pushed a breath out of the side of his mouth. "Like it or not, dad, I'm the captain of this ship now. And-"

"And as captain, your place is on the bridge." Kyle fastened his gaze on the younger man. Riker held it in a challenge.

"He's right," Troi admitted, breaking the tense silence. She had drawn up alongside her daughter, holding one of Carmen's hands with both of her own. "Your responsibility is first and foremost to the ship. I'm sorry, imzadi, but you have to stay here."

"I'll go."

The offer, spoken in a small but steady voice, came from the young woman beside her.

"Absolutely_ not!" _came Riker's protest.

"I'm the only one who was trained to do this," she argued. "Remember those power distribution nodes I was talking about? If I go over there, take one of them out, I can buy Geordi enough time to finish the weapon."

"I'll go with her," Dr. Crusher said quickly.

"Now wait a minute, I didn't say-"

"And don't even try to tell me no. With all due respect, as chief medical officer, I have a right to go against captain's orders."

"As far as medical issues go," Riker pointed out. "And I didn't say-"

"Jean Luc's got one hell of a medical issue right now, don't you think?"

Laforge raised his hand, as if asking permission to interrupt. "No offense, but how do you plan on finding the captain? I don't think they'd exactly give you directions. And who knows if a tricorder would work around their technology."

"The girl." Kyle turned his head to the side, indicating Carmen. "You can sense him, can't you?"

"No," she answered, as quick as she was decisive.

"What do you mean 'no?' I thought that you...that you inherited…"

"I mean if Picard has been assimilated, then there's nothing left of him _to_ sense," the young woman explained. "He's one of them now. One of those machines."

"But would you try?" Crusher petitioned. She felt a flutter of pain in her stomach at Carmen's harsh assertion, but refused to let that flutter reach her eyes. "For the captain?"

Carmen did not need to see Crusher's pain in order to feel it. Her expression softened as she turned to the doctor. "Yes," she replied. "I will try. For the captain."

Riker's shoulders slumped forward in defeat. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, reluctant to give the order, but acutely aware of every second that brought them closer and closer to Earth. "Data, Worf-they'll need cover."

"Aye sir," they both responded.

"I...I'll meet you in the transporter room. Dismissed."

The doctor, relieved to have a course of action, marched towards the turbolift. Worf and Data accompanied her. Carmen started to follow, but paused as she passed her father. For a brief moment she leaned against his side, letting the silence speak for her. Then she carried on, towards the turbolift and towards her mission.

"I'll go help them gear up," Kyle offered. "You...you made the right call, son." And he, too, departed from their midst.

Troi's chest rose sharply with an intake of breath as her daughter disappeared from view. She had held her objections until now. "Imzadi, please," she pleaded. "Call her back."

"I can't, Deanna." Riker gripped the railing, forcing himself to stare at the viewscreen instead of the pain in his wife's eyes. "She's right. I hate it, but she's right."

Troi gripped the railing beside him. "She isn't ready for this, Will. You're asking too much."

"Aren't you the one who's always telling me to trust her?" he said, turning to face the counselor with a sigh of exasperation. "Carmen knows what to look for. She knows how to fight them."

"She closed off her senses back then." Letting go of the railing, Troi gripped his arms instead. "To open them up again...to sense something from a Borg, from a machine...do you have any idea what that would do to her?"

"She's our best hope of finding the captain," Riker argued, trying to convince himself at the same time.

"No." Troi shook her head. "_I_ am."

Riker broke free from her grasp and backed away, horrified by her implications. "Imzadi...what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that we could lose her, Will. Let me find Picard. I know I can."

The commander turned his back, a ball of fear in his stomach making him feel ill. "You're asking me to risk losing both of you? I can't...Deanna, I can't..."

Troi put a hand on his waist, stopping him from retreating any further. "Please," she whispered, pulling herself in until her face was nestled against his shuddering back. "I'm asking you to take care of the Enterprise. And let me take care of our daughter."

* * *

Standing on the transporter pad, Carmen took a deep breath. A rush of cold anticipation ran through her veins, and she remembered now, how it felt to stand on the threshold of battle. The Klingons would laugh as they put on their armor, eager to face death. It used to hearten the young girl, but still she felt so small and inadequate marching beside them. If she closed her eyes, she could see the words dancing in front of her mind, words that she once held as close as her knife.

_Just as __mere life is not victory,_

_Mere death is not defeat _

_And in the next life I shall kill the foe a thousand times_

_Laughing _

_Undefeated._

They would sing those words after every battle, drunk on bloodwine and fatigue. In some strange way, Carmen thought, maybe this was her next life. And while she didn't feel like laughing, she hoped that at least they would go undefeated.

"Awaiting your orders, sir," O'Brien said as the commander strode into the transporter room. Beside him walked Troi. At first Carmen smiled at her mother, glad that she had come to say goodbye. That smile faltered, however, when Troi stepped up onto the platform.

"Mom? What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you," she answered, taking her place between Data and the doctor.

"Absolutely _not!_ Dad-!"

"Please." Riker lifted a hand. Carmen could see the weary lines of defeat around his firmly set frown. "There's no time to argue. We can't maintain pursuit for much longer." His gaze wandered across each member of the away team. "Keep in contact. Anything goes wrong, just give the word and we'll beam you back immediately. No unnecessary risks, understood?" He looked straight at Carmen for the last part.

"Understood," she replied.

He reached out, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "And...listen to your mother. Please."

Carmen shifted on her feet, mildly embarrassed by his additional order. "Don't worry. I'll watch out for her, dad," she promised.

"We'll watch out for each_ other_," Troi said, taking Riker's hand from their daughter's shoulder and clasping it tightly. Riker flashed them both a feeble attempt at a smile. Then he turned to join O'Brien, not letting go of his wife's hand until the last possible second.

"Ready to initiate transport, sir?" O'Brien asked.

It looked like it took all of his strength for Riker to say the next three words. "Make it so."


	14. A Moment Too Late

The grains of white faded from Carmen's vision as she finished beaming aboard the enemy vessel. She found herself standing on a metal grated walkway. Her muscles tensed, spring-like, as she felt for any vibrations of approaching footsteps. But all she could feel was a deep hum pulsating through the metal, through her very bones. It felt like a heartbeat, like the very floors of the ship were alive.

"It's hot," Crusher noted, pulling her-brightly colored hair away from her collar. "They aren't as susceptible to ambient temperatures, I take it."

After being on the climate-controlled Enterprise for so long, Carmen had forgotten what it was like to be uncomfortably warm. Her uniform stuck to the sweat that gathered along her skin, and she tugged the fabric away from her chest so she could breathe easier. The heat pressed around her as if it had a weight of its own, sinking into her lungs with every breath.

"That's right," she said to the doctor. "The nanoprobes take care of their flesh counterparts. They control things like body temperature and even the host's immune system. They believe that they_...improve_...the assimilated race." Her lips twitched briefly, loathe to say it out loud.

"How can this be an improvement?" Worf spat. "They are cowards with no honor."

Troi moved closer to Data as he swept a tricorder back and forth. "Any signs of life?" she asked.

"Scans are inconclusive," Data said.

_Then it's up to us to find signs of life._ It was just a passing thought, but one that Carmen knew her mother could hear. As she began to wander down the walkway, she felt a worried nudge in her mind.

_You must not think about the captain right now._

_But, mom! _Carmen ground her teeth together, frustrated with her mother's interference. _I can do it, you know. You didn't have to come. And besides, I made a promise to Dr. Crusher. _

_You're the only one who can lead us to the power distribution nodes. The Enterprise is counting on you, Carmen. Please-don't think about the captain. He'd order you to do the same, if he could. _

Those last three words gave the young woman pause. _If he could._ She conjured up a picture of the captain being held against his will. She felt his suffering as the Borg forced open his body, his mind. As they stripped away, piece by precious piece, that which made him Jean Luc Picard. As they cast aside his endeavors, his highest hopes, his fondest memories, that they might_ improve_ him.

_If he could._ He would die for each and every one of his people,_ if he could. _

Carmen felt her mother's hand on the small of her back. "Come on, love," she urged. "Don't think about it."

Worf brushed past them, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light. He held a phaser in one hand, wielding it protectively before the away team. "There," the Klingon growled. "I see them."

Carmen felt the sweat on her brow run cold. Up ahead, the walkway turned abruptly to follow a wall. Little alcoves dipped into the wall at regular intervals, and in each of these alcoves stood a drone. A web of tubes and wires connected the drones to the wall, creating a web that pulsed in time with the ship.

Troi sucked in a breath, staring in horror at the row of gray, unmoving faces. "What's wrong with them?"

Crusher advanced slowly, despite Worf's attempt to bar her way. "They appear to be in some sort of stasis," she said.

A surge of adrenaline pumped through Carmen's blood as she followed the doctor for a closer look. It went against her every instinct to stand face-to-face with a Borg. She held her phaser tightly, waiting for the slightest twitch. "Can they hear us, do you think?" Carmen asked.

"That's a good question," the doctor replied, waving her hand in front of a drone. "All I know is this looks like more like a mausoleum than a ship." She stepped back and wiped at a drop of sweat rolling from her temple. Her eyes roamed upward. "Hey, what's that?"

A small, red pyramid hung from above. It shed uneven light across the doctor's face, giving a glow to the sweat that still clung to her cheeks. A faint buzzing emanated from the pyramid, and the buzzing seemed to get louder as Carmen turned her attention to it.

"That's a power waveguide conduit," she said. "If we follow those pipes there, they should lead us to a group of distribution nodes."

A pleased growl rumbled from Worf's throat. "Then what are we waiting for?" He adjusted the phaser in his hand and took the lead, moving down the line of dormant drones with slow, cautious steps.

Carmen waited for her mother, who had fallen behind. She stood in the middle of the walkway, a profound but silent pain etched into the features of her face. _Mom? Are you alright?_

No answer. Carmen stepped closer. "Mom?" she said aloud. Troi jumped, reaching out as if for balance. Her daughter grabbed her by the arm. "Whoa! What is it? What happened?"

"Wh-what?" Troi looked around like a wild animal, her breath coming in shallow little gulps. Carmen kept a hold of her arm. Her brows pulled down with concern. She had never seen her mother so shaken before_. Something frightened her badly. But what? What could frighten __**her?**_

"Doctor!" she called. Crusher whipped around to see Troi hunched over, trembling from Carmen's grip. With her feet pounding against the metal grate, she hurried fast as she could to her best friend's aid.

"Deanna? Deanna, what is it? What's wrong?" She tried to help ease her to the ground, but Troi was gently prying her daughter's fingers from her arm.

"No-I can stand," she insisted. "Go on, Carmen. I'll be fine."

"But you-"

"Find the distribution nodes. Your father's waiting on you."

Carmen's mouth pressed into a thin, pale line. The counselor was blocking her senses. But even as she tried to push against that wall in her mind, she felt her mother pushing back.

"She'll be okay," Crusher said, wrapping her arm around Troi's waist to stand her upright. "Go on ahead, I've got this."

With a reluctant nod, Carmen trudged after Worf and Data. She tried to keep her ear trained on the hushed conversation behind her, but the buzzing of the power conduit swam through the oppressive heat, drowning out any hopes of eavesdropping. She thought again of the captain, and how he must be somewhere close by. Did he know they were there? Did he know they had a plan-a plan to resist? _It's not futile, captain. Don't believe them._ Even though Carmen knew he couldn't hear her, it still comforted her to say the words. In a way, she was telling herself the same thing.

The narrow walkway seemed to stretch on forever. So did the wall of drones. The team made their way deeper and deeper into the ship, following a set of silver pipes that ran parallel to their path. The heat grew thicker, heavier, until it felt like they had to push through it with every step. A chemical smell filled their nostrils, strong enough to make their noses burn and their eyes water. Worf rubbed at his nose with a snarl of disdain.

"I do not like it here," he grumbled. "It reeks of the enemy."

"I think we're almost there," Carmen assured him. Overhead, the silver pipes turned an abrupt corner. As the young woman followed, she found herself standing in a large, open space. A mechanical tower stood in the center of the space, rising like a bionic tree with clumps of wires for branches. Six different walkways converged upon the area, and above every walkway hung a massive green pyramid. Together, they buzzed like an angry swarm of bees. Carmen's eardrums rattled in her skull. "Those are what we're looking for!" she shouted above the din. "Those are power distribution nodes!"

Data paged the commander on his combadge. "We have located the distribution nodes, sir," he reported.

"_Good. Any sign of Picard?"_

The android looked to Crusher and Troi for the answer. Crusher's pale blue eyes, which normally danced with their own light, looked gray and solemn as she tapped her combadge to answer. "No sign of the captain, I'm afraid."

Slowly, incredulously, Carmen turned around. The doctor had lied. She felt the deception with every ounce of her Betazoid blood.

"_Proceed. We're standing by."_

Exchanging a nod, Worf and Data lifted their phasers. They sent a bolt of energy at the closest node. It hissed angrily in reply. They tried again, sending a second, longer stream of energy. It sizzled and popped, spraying a shower of sparks over the floor. One final burst of light, and the node shattered into pieces.

The metal grating quaked beneath Carmen's feet. The hope that had begun to swell in her chest now sank to the bottom of her boots. Drones emerged from the doorway under the destroyed distribution node. "I'll take care of them!" the young woman shouted, shouldering her way between Worf and Data with her weapon in hand. One by one the drones fell into a twisted pile of metal and flesh. Another node exploded overhead. More drones poured in from a different doorway.

Data reached for his combadge again. "Experiencing resistance. Prepare to beam us back."

"Not yet!" Carmen yelled. "We can't give up on the captain!" Holding her fire, she turned around for her mother. But the counselor was staring straight ahead, tears streaming from her long, dark lashes. The wall between their minds started to crumble.

Crusher took a step forward, just as a new wave of drones appeared. "Jean Luc…"

Somehow, the doctor's whisper reached Carmen's ears. It reached her heart as well, the pain stinging somewhere deep, somewhere sacred. She followed the women's mortified gazes to one of the doorways.

He stood alone, his body wrapped in black metal and cloth. A headpiece fitted over one eye shone in their direction with a bright red laser. His skin had been drained of its color, its human blush. Carmen gasped. Brick by brick, the wall in her mind was coming down. A searing hot anguish curled around its edges and filled every crack. She knew the presence on the other side of that wall, and it was not her mother. _It's Picard! I can feel him, mom, I can feel him! He's not just a machine!_

"Captain! " she cried. "Captain, it's okay! We're here for you!" She flung herself at the onslaught of drones.

"_No!"_ Troi screamed. Data held her back from following the young woman. A circle of drones closed around them like a noose, and they had already adapted to the phasers. The away team was running out of time.

Silently, Picard watched his young officer weave through the forest of bionic limbs that clawed and snatched at her. She slammed a drone to the side, using the momentum to roll over her shoulder and between the next drone's legs. Moving with all her years of training, Carmen continued to relentlessly barrel through the enemy's barrage.

"She's going to do it…" Crusher breathed. "She's going to reach him!"

Another distribution node burst above their heads. More drones would be coming soon, but one more leap was all the young woman needed to reach the captain. As she bounded into the air, sparks shot out of the space between them. An electrostatic forcefield crackled upon impact, and the shock sent Carmen flying backwards. She slid across the hard floor, no breath left in her lungs and every muscle in her body paralyzed.

"Beam us back!" she heard the doctor cry.

A drone came into view. It loomed over her, blotting out the hope she had come so close to touching. She could only watch in helpless horror as its assimilation tubes snaked closer and closer.

Out of nowhere, someone tumbled into the drone. They fell to the ground together while Crusher cried out again. _"I said beam us back!"_

The drone's assimilation tubes buried into her rescuer's throat. Everything disappeared in a blinding haze of white. They were being transported back to the Enterprise, but a moment too late.

Carmen could feel her mother's anguish join Picard's on the other side of that crumbling wall. Without Troi's strength it finally collapsed, and a flood of pain poured into her mind.


	15. Their Connection

**Ahh your reviews on the last chapter were so awesome! Thanks so much! And I'm happy to report that I typed this chapter out with both of my hands-no more one-handed typing haha. Recovery is going well. I'm having some alignment issues with the tendons in my arm, but I've started seeing a physical therapist and he's helping with that. He's confident that after a few months, I'll regain full mobility. So that's been encouraging. :-) **

* * *

"_Experiencing resistance. Prepare to beam us back."_

Kyle heard the transmission. He watched the commander run his hands over his face, his beard, as he tried to keep his imagination from running away with his fears.

"_I'm losing them, sir. The Borg...they're interfering somehow." _The next transmission came from Chief O'Brien. Riker's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning the same white as his face.

"Just bring them home!" he ordered. "Now, O'Brien!" His voice strained with urgency, with anger, with a complete and utter helplessness. He approached the cube-shaped monstrosity on the viewscreen as if he might reach through and pull the away team to safety himself.

"_Beam us back!_" Crusher pleaded, and Kyle's heart climbed into his throat. Riker was about to page O'Brien again when he doubled over suddenly, holding his head as though he had been struck.

"_I said beam us back!"_

Kyle leapt up, rushing to his son's side. "Will! Will, what is it?"

"Deanna..." he groaned.

"No, it's me." Kyle shook him, trying to rouse a response. A young ensign left his post to rush to the commander's aid, equally mystified by his sudden affliction.

"_I've got them, sir,_" O'Brien reported, bringing Kyle a brief wash of relief. But as his son's condition continued to worsen, a sense of dread wrapped its cold fingers around his throat.

"Watch over him," he instructed the young ensign. "I'll be back."

* * *

As Kyle approached the transporter room, he heard a blood-curdling noise spill into the hallway through the open doors. It sounded like an unearthly wail, a cry filled with so much pain that it rendered the voice unrecognizable. Pushing through a crowd of medical officers, he made his way to the edge of the transporter pad. "No…" Kyle breathed.

Long, dark hair cascaded over a limp arm. Moving closer, Kyle saw the counselor's face frozen in an expression of fear. Her wide-open eyes focused on something in the distance. Her lips parted in a ghastly grimace. Veins bulged across her temple and forehead, spreading in all directions like a spiderweb. Kyle had seen these effects before, but only in study. To see it on the face of someone who had offered him such comfort and company only hours before made his stomach suddenly lurch.

Dr. Crusher gripped one of her hands tightly. "The sedative isn't working," she lamented. "Beam us to sickbay-I might be able to do more for her there."

"Carmen, too?" O'Brien asked.

"No, not yet. We have to keep them separated."

"Energizing," the chief said, and before Kyle could climb onto the transporter pad, both Crusher and the counselor disappeared. The terrible sound, however, continued to assault his ears.

Now Kyle could see who it emanated from. Carmen thrashed against the platform, clawing at her ears and howling in pain. Data knelt beside the young woman. He looked up at Kyle, and if the old strategist didn't know any better, he could have sworn he saw a human-like concern in those pale gold eyes. "What's wrong with her?" he asked the android.

"I do not know. There appears to be no physical ailment."

A thin layer of sweat clung to Carmen's skin, beading along her brow. "Too...many…voices..." she panted. To Kyle's surprise, her eyes swivelled towards him. They looked just as wide and terror-stricken as the counselor's.

"Deanna…" he said, thinking back to his son's similar condition. "I think it's Deanna. Something about their Betazoid bond." He bent over the young woman, pinning her shoulders to the ground. Her legs curled beneath her, pushing off the floor, straining against him. "Let go, Carmen," he ordered. "You have to let go of her or this won't stop!"

Her eyes squeezed shut. Her teeth clenched tightly, trying to hold back another cry. "I...can't..."

"Yes, you can!" He gave her shoulders a violent shake.

_"_What the hell are you doing?!" Someone dragged Kyle off of her and, with a roar of anger, slammed him against the bulkhead. He found himself staring directly into Riker's face, which had drawn taut with a dangerous kind of fury.

"Will!" he gasped. "I was just trying to-Deanna was-"

"Where is she?" Riker jolted him against the wall. _"Where is my wife?"_

"She's in sickbay, with Dr. Crusher," Worf interjected. His hand clamped firmly over Riker's shoulder. "It's alright, sir. He was trying to help Carmen. I would not have let him hurt her."

As Riker's grip loosened, Kyle gently pried his hands the rest of the way off. "You felt it, too, didn't you? You already know what happened to Deanna."

Carmen rolled onto her side, curling her body around one of Worf's feet. Strangled sounds of pain continued to rattle in her throat. Riker sank down into a crouch. With one hand, he reached for her shuddering back. "You mean she...she can still feel it?"

Someone came hurtling through the transporter room doors. An officer with dark hair and a blue medical uniform paused on the edge of the platform, leaning over to catch his breath. Riker stiffened, rising to his feet. "What is it, Bettencourt?"

"Dr. Crusher...told me to...give her this," he said between breaths, holding out a hypospray. "It's a neural inhibitor."

"A neural inhibitor?" Riker positioned himself protectively between the officer and his daughter. Kyle gaped at him, bewildered by his actions. "She's part Betazoid! Do you have any idea what that would do to her?"

"It won't be permanent," Bettencourt promised. "And I'll give her a sedative first to ward off the shock." Tentatively, he stepped up onto the platform. "Please, sir. She's in a lot of pain."

Riker's jaw clenched and unclenched. He glanced down at the young woman, and his resolve wavered as she let out another ragged cry. "Fine," he mumbled bitterly. "Just...get it over with."

He turned away, burying his head in his hands. The hypospray hissed, and within moments, Carmen's body went limp. "Doctor Crusher said she should be returned to her own quarters," Bettencourt instructed. "It's best she stay away from her mother until the inhibitor reaches full strength."

"What does he mean?" Kyle asked, his ears still ringing in the newfound silence. "What did he do to her?"

Riker shook his head. "She cut it off before," he mused, to himself it seemed. "It must have been like cutting off an arm or a leg. Deanna was teaching her to...oh, god, Deanna..."

Before Kyle could press him further, an urgent page came through. _"Bridge to Riker."_

The commander's hand moved towards his badge, a purely reflexive motion. "Riker here," he answered, though his voice sounded far away.

"_Sir, the Borg...they are hailing us."_


	16. Cold Comfort

It felt like the turbolift was closing in on Commander Riker. He needed space, needed air, needed_ time_. Time to repair the Enterprise. Time to think of a plan. Time to grieve for his wife.

Once again, for just a moment, he could hear that crescendo of voices climbing through their connection. His fists balled with anger at the thought of them trampling over Troi's mind, ruthlessly crushing the essence of her individuality. He wanted to stop the turbolift, to race as fast as he could to sickbay before she was gone for good. But there wasn't _time,_ and he hated the Borg for it.

"We have arrived at the bridge, sir," Worf said. The turbolift came to a smooth stop. Worf, along with Data and Kyle, hung back to allow the commander to disembark first. On the viewscreen, he saw the Borg cube looming in ominous, expectant silence.

"Do you want me to open a channel, sir?" Ensign Bryant asked. "They are still hailing us."

"Not yet, Mister Bryant," Riker replied.

Kyle stepped close to his son. "What are you waiting for?" he whispered. "What's the plan?"

But Riker made his way down the ramp, ignoring his father and trying even harder to ignore a stab of pain upon sight of the counselor's empty chair. "Riker to Laforge," he paged. "Are we ready yet?"

"_We're ready, sir," _the lieutenant answered.

Worf's hands clenched the sides of his console. "The deflector dish? But sir-what about Captain Picard?"

The commander paused in front of another empty chair. "We have one shot, Worf," he said. "They get back into warp, and we lose the captain anyway. And a hell of a lot more."

A grim understanding sank into the crew's silence. There was a certain precarity in their position. A certain horror in the idea of destroying life without killing it. They must not let that horror spread to Earth, they knew.

"Commence arming sequence," Riker ordered. "And then answer their hail."

Kyle drew himself up alongside his son. Their shoulders formed a straight, determined line. Seconds pounded away like a hammer in Riker's chest as he braced himself for the face of his enemy to appear.

Presently, the Borg cube vanished from the viewscreen. A different image took its place, dark and disorienting. Riker's eyes ran over the foreign silhouettes, trying to make sense of it all. Movement in the center of the screen caught his attention. A single drone marched towards them, its red eyepiece washing over them at the height of every step. The drone came closer and closer until its entire face filled their frame of view. Riker's jaw fell slack. It was not the face of his enemy.

It was the face of Picard.

"_I am Locutus of Borg," _he said. Riker could still hear the captain, despite the way his voice grated like metal against stone. He could still see the captain, despite the way his eyes lacked the valor that had always resided there. _"Resistance is futile. Your life as it has been is over. From this time forward, you will service __**us**__."_

His words sent a harrowing ripple across the bridge. The commander found himself grasping for those words Carmen had spoken earlier, those cold and detached words that now offered him comfort. _He's one of them now. One of those machines._ Riker had to believe it. For a moment, at least, he had to believe it.

"Mr. Worf..." he said, the cold sweat of anticipation dampening his brow. "Fire."

* * *

Carmen's head felt heavy and full of water. Her thoughts sloshed back and forth as she tried to sit up, groaning with the effort. A chair creaked from her bedside.

"Hey," someone greeted softly. "Can you hear me?"

She tried to answer, but it came out as another groan instead.

"Just lie still. Don't rush it." Sheppard's face came into focus. A single, tired curl fell over his forehead as he leaned closer. He held the end of a bottle in one hand, and in the dim light, Carmen could see her baby brother cradled against the young man's chest. His tiny fingers curled over Sheppard's while he drank from the bottle in a succession of hungry, hasty gulps.

Broken, jagged pieces of Carmen's memory began to fall into place. "Mom…" she rasped. "I want my mom." She threw back the covers, fumbling to get her legs free of the sheets.

"No-wait!" Sheppard cried.

One of her feet touched the floor. She started to swing the second one around, then paused to take in her surroundings. A dresser sinking beneath piles of rocks. A shelf crammed with music sheets and picture frames. A trophy and a lump of gold on her bedside table. "Allan...what are we doing in my room?" she asked.

The young man swallowed nervously. "Dr. Crusher said you can't leave yet."

"Can't leave?" She pushed her other foot to the ground. "Wh-what's going on? Did we manage to get the Borg out of warp?"

"You did."

"Then...then what about the deflector dish? Is it ready? What am I doing here when...when…" She waited for him to interrupt her with some kind of reassurance, for him to tell her that everything was, or would be, alright. But his face only grew darker and darker. "Allan?"

Reaching out for him in her mind, Carmen found herself bumping into a wall instead. The wall stretched into a room, a cold and empty room. An icy shiver ran down her spine.

"Something is wrong," she whispered. "I can't feel you. Why can't I feel you?"

He stood up slowly, adjusting Billy's weight in his arms. "You were in too much pain. It...it was the only way."

"The only way to_ what?_" she cried.

Billy broke away from the bottle, little dribbles of milk rolling down his chin. He whimpered uneasily at her sudden outburst. "The only way to sever the connection," Sheppard explained. "Dr. Crusher said it was too strong. She said you couldn't break it on your own, that we had to help you."

Again she reached for him, and again she found a wall blocking her way. Carmen felt blind, even though she could see the fright on her baby brother's face. She felt deaf, even though she could hear Sheppard's desperate attempts to calm her. Panic pounded in her chest. Alone. She was alone again. His comforting warmth couldn't seep through those walls; she was buried too deep. _This isn't a prison. It's a grave! _

"Why didn't you answer me?" she demanded, skirting along the edge of her bed. "When I asked you about the deflector dish-why didn't you answer me?"

Billy's bottle clattered to the floor. His whimpers turned into a series of sharp cries. Sheppard rocked him back and forth, raising his voice above the sound. "Please," he begged. "You're scaring him!"

"_Why didn't you answer me?"_

"It didn't work, okay?" he blurted out. Immediately, he regretted it.

"It didn't…?" Her knees trembled for a moment, then gave up altogether. Sheppard crammed the fussing baby against his side so he could grab hold of Carmen before she fell.

"Come on," he urged, hoisting her back onto her feet. "We can talk about this later. You need to rest-"

"Why didn't it work?" She came to her feet but refused to be moved to the bed. Her eyes searched his from behind the walls of her psionic prison.

Sheppard looked away. He knew she couldn't read him, but still he wanted to shield her from his pain as much as he could. "It was Picard," he said at last. "Picard knew about the plan. So they knew, too."

A stifled sound came from her throat as she tried to swallow the bitter taste of betrayal. Tentatively, Sheppard slid one of his hands into hers. When she did not pull away, he squeezed it once. Twice. Three times.

"I know you can't feel me," he whispered. "But I'm here, Carmen._ I'm here._"

He stepped closer, and closer again, until Billy was nestled snugly between them. The baby rubbed his eyes with a fist, his cries now nothing more than ragged little breaths.

"I tried," Carmen said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I tried to reach the captain. I didn't mean for him to...for mom to…"

"Shhh," Sheppard crooned. "I know, _parmaqqay_. I know."

"My dad…does he know?" she asked. As she held in a breath, it quivered in her chest.

A sad smile played at the young man's lips. "He uh, he just wants you to get some sleep," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

She crumpled against him, weeping without any more words. Sheppard let tears of his own roll down to join hers. A pang of guilt pulled at his heart. Secretly, he felt grateful for the neural inhibitor. Otherwise, Carmen might have known that he was leaving a few things out. Like how the Borg had resumed their course for Earth. How it would take them eight hours to get the Enterprise repaired. And how her father had not yet come by.


	17. The Little Things

**Thanks for such beautiful reviews! You guys are the best! It makes my day every time I read them. Being able to write has been keeping me sane since I have to set aside my other hobbies for the next few months, so again, thanks for making it so enjoyable. **

**One more thing-this site has been really glitchy lately, so in case you aren't getting the emails when the new chapters are up, I will post the next one this weekend. I'm basically done with it, but tomorrow morning I leave for the Bitterroot Mountains for a few days (broken arm be damned-I need some time in the Great Outdoors!). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :-) **

* * *

_Troi savored the smell of pinecones in the sweet summer air. Their scent clung to her husband's beard as she kissed him late one morning, a fishing pole tucked under her arm. River water, cold and clear, splashed against the side of their legs. Somewhere over the Kuskokwim Mountains an eagle cried to its mate. _

_Beaming, Riker pulled away for breath. "I like fishing, but you kiss me like that again and I'll pack everything up right now."_

"_Hold your horses, partner," she laughed. "I've got a fish to catch."_

"_Come on," he urged, letting his lips graze the side of her neck. "We could slip away for ten, fifteen minutes and nobody would even notice."_

_Troi giggled at the way he nudged her towards the shore impatiently. "Wasn't this fishing trip__** your**__ idea?"_

"_Yeah, well, you've given me a few other ideas." He pulled her back to his lips, kissing her ardently. She tossed the fishing pole aside and let her body meld against him, for his mouth was giving her other ideas, too. _

_A thunderous splashing, accompanied by a flurry of swear words, made them break away from each other in alarm. Riker squinted against the bright yellow sun, trying to peer upstream. "Carmen?" he shouted. "Is that you? Is everything alright?"_

_The splashing continued, as did the profanity. Holding Troi's hand, Riker helped her hop from stone to stone until they reached a bend in the river. Just beyond it, they saw their daughter thrashing about the water, trying to keep hold of the most enormous sockeye salmon the commander had ever seen. It shot out from between her hands, its tail slapping her cheek as it flew past. "Son of a-"_

"_First of all, watch your language," Riker called. "Second of all, what the hell are you doing?"_

"_I'm fishing!" she retorted, waving her arms out at her sides to keep afloat. _

"_You're supposed to use a pole, you know."_

"_It was taking too long!" Something under the surface of the sparkling water caught her eye. "Aha! Got you, you little-" Carmen dove under again, and after a brief struggle that displaced about half the river onto the banks, she emerged triumphant. Laughing victoriously, she heaved herself out and climbed to drier ground. Her sopping wet clothes left a trail of water across the rocks. "And THAT is how you catch a fish, Billy!" she said, presenting him with the slippery salmon. From a basket near the edge of the grass, Billy made a celebratory shriek. _

_Riker covered his face with a palm. "What kind of nonsense have you been teaching your little brother?"_

"_Only the most essential nonsense," she said, grinning devilishly. "Like how to get out of Picard's lectures by talking about nana-"_

"_Hey! Don't you bring the captain into this!"_

"_-and how to shoot spitballs into the warp core without Geordi catching you-"_

"_Not Geordi, too!"_

"_Oh and I just found out there's an old Earth holiday called April Fools! Wait until you hear what we've got in store for Data…"_

"_Data? Oh no..." Riker gulped, his expression tinged with horror. "Deanna, what have we done?"_

_Troi laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I don't know, imzadi," she said, and watched as Carmen stooped in front of the basket to fawn over her little brother. "But whatever we did, we did it well."_

* * *

Gently, Riker cupped a hand over his wife's cheek. "Imzadi…" he whispered, and part of him waited for her to answer even though he knew she was gone.

Troi lay strapped to the top of a bio bed, tucked safely away in the back of the lab. Monitors whirred nearby, flashing with green numbers and fluctuating graphs. Though her eyes were closed under heavy sedation, her skin stretched and crawled as the nanoprobes went about their work. Riker looked away, too anguished by the sight. They had gotten her back, but only part of her. And so part of him was still missing, too.

"She heard him." Crusher appeared on the other side of the bio bed. "She heard Jean Luc. That means the host survives."

"But for how long?"

The doctor shook her head. "I don't know. Their technology is...it's beyond us. For now, at least. But I'll keep studying. I'll keep looking for a way to…to..." She ran her fingers down the length of Troi's arm. "I'm sorry, Will. I'm so sorry."

He looked over at her, a smile of commiseration bravely fighting to lift the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, too. I know you and the captain…"

She laughed, and as small and fragile as the sound was, it eased the ache in his heart for just a moment. "No. There _was_ no me and the captain. Just...just tea and toast every morning in his quarters. Reading our favorite books aloud. Some detective work in the holodeck." A bittersweet sigh blew from her lips. "Little things like that."

"It's the little things that make up the big things, you know." Riker said. Closing his eyes, he could smell those pinecones again. He could hear the sound of the river splashing against his legs. He could feel the curve of her back beneath his hand. All those little things felt too heavy now, too heavy to carry alone.

"Commander?" Lieutenant Laforge emerged from under the lab's doorway. His gaze softened as it fell upon the counselor. "I'm sorry to interrupt. It's Admiral Hanson-we've managed to make contact with him."

"I'll meet you in the observation lounge," he said without taking his eyes off of his wife. Bending down, he lightly kissed the side of her face and then whispered something brief, something tender, into her ear. His hand squeezed hers before he straightened again. "Beverly, would you let me know if...if she…"

"I'll let you know of any changes," Crusher promised.


	18. The Color Blue

**I'm back! Didn't get eaten by bears or anything haha. We had a very adventurous time, staying in an old ranger lookout tower on top of a mountain. My four year old was thrilled that she could get as dirty as she wanted and there were no bathtubs! I did bring a notebook and worked on some future chapters by the light of the lantern, and while I missed my laptop, it was fun in its own way. At any rate, here's the next chapter for you! **

* * *

"The fleet is moving into position," Admiral Hanson said from the viewscreen at the head of the table. "I'm on my way now to join the party." A smile appeared in the folds of his age-rumpled face.

Riker drummed his knuckles against the desktop. Though he disagreed with the plan, he couldn't help but like the admiral. Hanson reminded him of a toughened old cowboy from one of Troi's beloved stories. A man of solitude, he devoted himself to the Final Frontier the way others devoted themselves to wives. While the prospect of an all-out battle against the Borg made Riker balk, it seemed to put a spark in the old's admiral's eye.

"How many ships, sir?" Worf asked from further down, where he sat beside Lieutenant Laforge. Kyle, the only other occupant in the room, had chosen a seat closer to the head of the table.

"There will be forty ships in all assembling at Wolf 359," Hanson replied. "And you'll be proud to know the Klingons are sending help. You can always count on those guys in a fight."

An appreciative grunt made its way back up the table. The news was no surprise to Riker; Klingons lived for the glory of battle, for the chance to die a warrior's death. But there was something more to them, for they had stood by his daughter and countless other child soldiers in the war for their bleak universe. And now, they would stand by mankind again. In that moment, Riker understood Carmen's unwavering admiration for the Klingon race.

Still, her warning about the council's plan rang in his ears. "With all due respect, sir…" Riker began, and he felt a few curious gazes turn towards him. "Even the Klingons aren't equipped to deal with a threat of this scale."

"And what would you suggest?" Hanson quipped.

Riker hesitated. "I suggest we focus our efforts on evacuation procedures."

"Evacuation?" The admiral drew himself closer to the viewscreen, close enough for Riker to see the ruts in his face formed by a frown. "And let the Borg hurtle towards earth, unchecked?"

"We need to save as many lives as we can," Riker argued. "This isn't just war we're facing; it's extinction."

Hanson's jaw hinged and unhinged. "Look, commander, I understand your concern. But even if I agreed with you, I don't have the authority to make that call."

Kyle had been listening to the exchange with growing unease. "Sir, after what happened...after the deflector dish failed...I think he's right. We aren't equipped for this battle."

The commander glanced at his father, surprised. He had snubbed Carmen for making the same suggestion. _Carmen._ Guilt touched the edge of Riker's conscience to think of the young woman. Though he knew the neural inhibitor was the right course of action, it still felt like he was putting her back in that prison where they had first found her.

"Can't you speak with someone who_ can _make that call?" Kyle urged. "With Captain Picard assisting the Borg, we can't hope to-"

"There is no way in hell that he would _assist_ the Borg," Hanson interrupted. "Let that be clear. I've never met anyone with more drive, determination, or courage than Jean Luc Picard."

Kyle nodded curtly. Riker felt his regard for the admiral strengthening.

"He is...a casualty of war. A great man has been lost. Your captain. My friend. We must always remember him as such."

A heavy silence bore down over the room. There was nothing to add, no words that could make it more meaningful. Each knew the price that had been paid with Picard's life-a life now being used against them.

"Commander Riker-" Hanson's voice pulled him from his reverie. "I hereby promote you to the field commission of captain. I believe congratulations are in order, though I wish the circumstances were different."

"Likewise," Riker said. In his more ambitious moments, he had often envisioned himself taking the helm of the Enterprise one day. But always, it had been Picard to pass the torch along. "We won't stop working until the ship is up and running again," he promised. "Good luck, admiral."

Hanson nodded. "Good luck to us all."

The screen blinked to black. The heavy silence resumed, a little heavier now with the weight of his new title.

Laforge pushed forward in his seat. "We still have at least three more hours of work ahead of us," he said glumly. "I need more hands. If only…" He paused, glancing around Worf's shoulder and out the nearest window.

"If only what, Geordi?" Riker asked.

"Well, we know there was another ship out here recently. I wonder if they're still close enough to be of assistance."

Kyle straightened up so quickly that his chair snapped upright. "What do you mean, another ship?"

"We came across an ion trail as we were leaving the nebula," Laforge explained. "Someone must have come looking for us. Other than you, I mean."

Kyle's eyes widened. The news seemed to distress him greatly. "Do you know their bearing? Which way did they go?"

"We didn't exactly have time to investigate," Riker snapped. "Geordi, Worf-I need you back in Engineering. Keep me updated on your progress."

"Aye, sir," they replied, and rose from the table at the same time as their new captain. Riker stood by the door, but as they passed him on their way out, he noticed that his father was still seated at the table.

"Coming?"

Slowly, Kyle's eyes found their way to his son's face. "I need to...there is someone I must speak with first."

"Now?"

"In private. Please."

"What the hell-?" Riker stepped away from the doors, letting them close automatically. "Is there something you'd like to share with me? Something about that ion trail?" With everything else going on, he hadn't given it much thought. It seemed inconsequential, at least up until now.

Kyle's jaw worked for the right words. "I just...I need you to trust me on this, Will."

"Trust?" Riker spat. "You come into my life after fifteen years of silence and have the audacity to ask me for _trust?_" He took a step back, just a small one, but the distance between them grew even greater.

"_Laforge to Riker."_

Begrudgingly, and still keeping an eye on his father, Riker answered the page. "Riker here. What is it, Geordi?"

"_Haykov just informed me that the generators keep going offline. There's a fault in the system somewhere, but if we can't find it soon, it'll take a lot longer to get this ship moving again." _

"I'll be right there." He cut the transmission and, peevishly, returned his attention to his father. "Go ahead and make your call. But I have a ship to run, so it's best you stay out of my way from now on."

* * *

Carmen awoke to silence. She reached for her mother through the fog that shrouded her mind, like a child in need of comfort upon waking from a bad dream. But as the fog cleared to reveal the walls of her prison, she remembered that her dream was, in fact, very real.

Growing up, Deanna Troi had been little more than a name; she was a shadow over the young girl's life, a stab of pain in her father's chest. Now she was a stab of pain in Carmen's chest, too. And that ache that sleep had mercifully numbed returned to her weary body.

Sheppard still occupied the chair at her bedside, though he had succumbed to sleep at some point. His head was tilted all the way back against the wall so that every breath he drew in became a prolonged snore. From a makeshift sling across his chest that he still cradled, Carmen could hear her little brother's snores rising between every one of Sheppard's.

Her blue rock rested on the nightstand, right next to her father's piece of gold. She picked it up and held it tightly in one hand, feeling the smooth, worn edges against her palm. Its solace seeped through the walls of her prison, wrapping around her like a blanket. With a little sigh, she unfurled her fingers and watched the light roll over every hill and valley on its glossy blue surface. Blue, the color of Lwaxana's music room, where they had sung silly songs together until their throats were hoarse and their hearts bursting with laughter. Blue like the ingaberries that stained her fingertips after a day of picking. She and Mr. Homn would delve their hands into the bucket again and again on their way home until there were only a few left rolling along the bottom, barely enough for her father's homemade sauce. Blue as the Indar Ocean, whose shores she had walked along with her parents, thinking nothing of starships and missions and wars.

Her peace was shattered by a sudden, harrowing realization. The Borg. They had conquered Betazed where she was from. She had been too young to understand the scale of such loss, but now its crushing weight came down on her all at once. She saw the rivers and lakes turn to fire, the forests to ash. She saw a desert in place of the Indar Ocean. Her nana's lakehouse in lonely ruins...

Carmen choked on a sob that tried to rise in her throat. How much longer until the Borg conquered this universe as well? How many more times would she have to lose it all? More and more lines were blurring between this reality and the other, and she felt her mind beginning to unravel.

Gripping the edge of the nightstand, Carmen pulled herself out of bed. She moved slowly, carefully, padding across the floor so as not to wake Sheppard. He needed his rest, she told herself. And besides, he might try and stop her.


	19. Broken

Dr. Crusher checked the chronometer on her desk, trying to count how many hours she had been awake. _Too many_, she concluded when her mind could barely trudge through the basic math. Rising from her chair, she rubbed the side of her stiff neck. "I could sure use one of our little talks," she said, addressing the Borg body that lay nearby.

As caretakers of the crew, both Crusher and Troi shared more than just a responsibility. They shared cups of coffee and conversations, fears and family secrets, laughter and tears of different types. They spoke of things that would have made the men in their lives blush. They joked in a way that made Carmen roll her eyes and accuse them of having mind melded at some point. They were friends, and in the dark recesses of unexplored space, that might as well mean sisters.

A sudden commotion sharpened the edges of Crusher's attention. She heard muffled shouts coming through the closed door of her laboratory._ "Don't!"_ someone yelled. _"Put that down!" _cried another.

Hastening into sickbay, she saw a small crowd of people scuffling near one of the technical supply stands. Bettencourt stood on the outskirts, nursing a bloody nose. Catching sight of the doctor, he waved her over urgently.

"It's Ensign Riker," he explained as she drew within earshot. "I found her rummaging through some of our equipment. Caught her by surprise." Gingerly, he indicated his nose.

A wry smile pulled at Crusher's lips. She had anticipated that it would be difficult to keep Carmen confined to her quarters. "Go clean yourself up," she said. "I've got this."

Up ahead, three members of her team were trying to negotiate with Carmen, who clutched a hypospray to her chest and didn't appear willing to give it back. Kerry, one of the junior officers on staff, had fearlessly taken the lead.

"You can't just use any old hypospray," she said, hands on her hips. "You might knock yourself out, silly. Now give it here."

Carmen clutched the hypospray tighter. "Not until you give me the one that I need," she growled.

"What's the problem over here?" Crusher imposed herself between the two young women. Carmen moved back, sidling against the wall. Her hair fell about her face in wild disarray. Her tongue flicked nervously across her lips.

"I need to speak with my mom," she demanded. "What have you done with her?"

"She's under sedation, for her protection as well as ours," Crusher answered, taking in her disheveled appearance. "How are you feeling? Any fever from the inhibitor?" She reached out to press a hand against Carmen's forehead, her professional habits converging with more maternal ones. But Carmen merely swatted her hand away impatiently.

"You don't understand!" she snarled. "Just give me something to block this inhibitor!"

"I can't do that, Carmen," Crusher insisted. "Don't you remember what happened? How much pain you were in?"

"It doesn't matter! I have to try, damnit!"

Gritting her teeth in an overly patient smile, Crusher turned to the rest of her staff. "Back to work, everybody. I'll handle it from here."

The small crowd dispersed. Kerry trailed behind, following at a halfhearted pace. "I can stay with her, if you'd like," she offered, casting a compassionate glance in Carmen's direction. The two had become unlikely friends after an away mission nearly ended in disaster, and ever since then, Carmen developed a special patience for the inexperienced young officer. Still, Crusher knew that their friendship would not be enough to bring Carmen back. Even her own advances would not be enough. She had cut the bond that kept her tethered to her roots, and let loose the soldier they had first encountered.

"Thank-you Kerry, but I think Carmen needs to be with her mother right now," she said, giving her shoulder an appreciative squeeze as Kerry withdrew to join the rest of her team.

Carmen's breath caught sharply in her throat. "You mean...you'll let me see her?"

"Yes, I'll let you see her," she replied. "So long as you give me that hypospray and apologize to Bettencourt. Do we have a deal?"

Carmen looked down at the device in her hand, the dull luster of tears forming in her eyes. "And...the inhibitor?"

"It has to stay in your system. Your mother wouldn't want you to share her suffering."

The young woman's lips drew into a thin, trembling line. "But what if...what if it can help us?"

Crusher reached a second time for the young woman's face, trying to smooth a tangle of hair at her cheek. "What do you mean?"

"The Borg," Carmen insisted, shying away from her hand. "What if she can tell us something we didn't know? Something that could-that could-"

"That's a big 'if.' One that needs careful thought and consideration, not to mention your father's approval," Crusher pointed out. "Now come here." She continued to run her fingers through the knotted clump of raven-dark hair. Carmen's lips twitched at first, disdainful of the touch. But slowly, she found herself relenting to the doctor's hand. It felt like her mother's hand, soothing her dark, unruly waves and her dark, unruly thoughts at the same time. It pulled on something in her memory, something soft and sweet that made her ache to remember.

_Dr. Crusher sitting across from her in Ten Forward, teaching her how to blow bubbles in a glass of chocolate milk._

_Dr. Crusher walking her to class when her father had early morning bridge duty._

_Dr. Crusher getting overly excited to help with her science project, and explaining everything in excruciating detail. _

"Hey, um, can I tell you something?" Carmen quietly asked.

"What is it, love?"

"I just...I wanted to say that...here, take it." She pulled the words back from the tip of her tongue and offered the hypospray instead. "Could we see my mother now?"

Crusher smiled, the gesture tinged with sadness. Almost. Carmen had almost followed her back to that tether, only to reach for her armor again. "Come on," she said. "Deanna's in the lab."

* * *

The floor seemed to heave under Carmen's feet as she approached the bio bed. Her stomach was doing something similar, and she swallowed as a sour taste rose to the back of her throat. As if in a nightmare, her mother's face came gradually into view.

What was left of Troi's hair clung to her scalp in thin little wisps. Black veins travelled across the ghostly white of her face. On the nearby screen a graph jumped up and down, tracing an artificial mountain range across the screen. Though Carmen was close enough to reach out and touch her mother, she felt as if that mountain range stood between them.

"I have to go run a few tests," Crusher said from the doorway. "But take all the time you need. I'll be back in a little while with dinner. Any requests?"

Carmen said nothing, her back to the doctor. Crusher's smile faded. "Chicken soup it is. Let me know if you need anything-I'm just a page away."

Quietly, the doctor withdrew from the room. Carmen turned around and stared at the closed door. For a moment she wanted to call her back, to let go of the words that still waited at the tip of her tongue.

"I never got to say goodbye." The words came out anyway. They fell from her lips, alone as she was. "Over there. I never got to thank you for how much you did for me-for my family. You were the closest thing I had to a mother. And then, just like everybody else, you were gone one day."

Tears flowed from that wounded place, burning her throat and stinging her eyes. Carmen reached for her mother's hand, though she found it empty of the comfort she so desperately needed. "Please, mama," she whispered, pleading into the poignant silence that answered her. "Please talk to me."

On the monitor, the graph continued to rise and fall, rise and fall. The seconds stretched into minutes, but Carmen felt neither the passing of time nor the urgency of their delay. She felt only her mother's cold hand, cold as the chill of loneliness seeping into her bones.

And then the laboratory door opened. Carmen's heart gave a single, hopeful thump in her chest. Maybe it was the doctor, returning with dinner. Or Sheppard on a worried search for her. Or maybe it was her father, coming to visit his imzadi. Someone whose hand would be warm and reassuring, someone who could pull her back from the edge of that abyss she wavered upon.

It was Kyle Riker. He paused just inside the doorway, nodding to the young woman as though he had expected to find her there. Her face tightened angrily. "What do you want? Aren't you supposed to be on the bridge or something?"

"Not anymore. Will doesn't seem to care for my company very much," he admitted.

"Neither do I," Carmen snapped, and turned her back on him.

She heard Kyle's footsteps as he moved further into the room. "I think you were right, by the way. About Wolf 359. I tried to talk Admiral Hanson out of it."

Begrudgingly curious, Carmen turned halfway around. "Why?"

"After seeing what they did to Captain Picard…" He trailed off, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. "It's horrific, isn't it? How quickly man can be humbled."

"Did the admiral listen?"

Kyle shook his head. "No, Hanson's fleet is due to intercept the Borg in less than an hour."

Something dark brooded over Carmen's face. "A lot of lives will be lost. And that's only the beginning." _The beginning of the end_, she thought, and tried to fend off images of her father's beloved Alaska lain to waste. "What about my dad?"

"What about him?"

"Where is he?"

"In Engineering, I think. He has the whole ship riding on his shoulders now."

Carmen traced her fingers across her mother's palm, avoiding the old man's eye. "Do you think...is he mad?"

"What, at you?" Kyle scoffed. "Why would he be mad at you?"

"Because it's my fault." Her eyes squeezed shut against a new flood of tears. "I didn't listen. I just saw the captain and I...I went for him."

"You made a split second decision," he said. "The sign of a trained mind. Sometimes those decisions pay off, and sometimes...well, sometimes they don't."

"They were both taken right in front of me, you know. First the captain, and then my mother. I couldn't save either of them."

"So you think this is your fault?" Kyle nodded sharply towards the counselor. "You think you did this to her?"

"I might as well have. You said it yourself-I knew what the Borg were capable of, and failed to prevent this."

Kyle winced. "Look, when I said that, there were things I didn't know yet. Things that-"

"I should have known this would happen." She continued to ramble, lost in her own head. "I should have known there was no such thing as safe. No such thing as home. We were never meant to be a family-just broken pieces of one."

"Watch it," he warned. "What if she can hear you? Don't you think she's suffered enough?"

"Enough?" Carmen broke into a short, bitter laugh. "It's never _enough_, is it? The Borg, they take and they take, but they don't take all of you. No, they leave just _enough_ for you to know that they were right. That resistance _is _futile."

Kyle marched up to the young woman, grabbing hold of her shoulders. "Keep it together, damnit! We haven't lost yet!"

She shoved him away, bristling with rage. "My father knew all along that they weren't just machines! He knew I might see her again one day, as a drone. That's why he never showed me her face. That's why he tried to carry all those memories alone. But what if I did?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What if I _did_ see her again?" Carmen trembled, sick with the horror of her own words. "What if I killed her in some god-forsaken corner of that universe? I wouldn't have even recognized her. But _she_ would have recognized me. She would have seen me for what I truly was-a soldier. You were right about that, too. I'm just a soldier."

Kyle's mouth opened and closed, unable to make a defense, unable to talk her down. But her outburst had reached its peak, and she tumbled recklessly from such a hopeless height.

"I can't stop this," she said, her voice falling just as fast. "Don't you see? Nobody can. We haven't lost yet, but we will. Always, we will."

Carmen pushed past his shoulder and, blinded by fresh tears, made for the door. "No-wait!" She heard Kyle calling for her to stop, but didn't want to look back and see her mother's face. "I think I know someone who can!"

She paused just before triggering the door's automatic sensors. His words seemed to echo in the brief, new silence that bounded between them. "What...what are you talking about?"

"Someone who can stop the Borg."

Slowly, she swivelled on her heel. Kyle had drawn himself up, facing her earnestly, even eagerly. "Who?" Carmen asked.

"Leyton. You need to contact Admiral Leyton. He can't do it without you."


	20. Second Chances

"But...I don't understand."

Carmen stood in the middle of Kyle's assigned quarters, trying to wrap her mind around everything she had just heard. The only light in the room came from a screen on the far wall, which cast a washed-out haze over everything in its reach. Furniture around the edges of the room morphed into shapeless shadows that seemed to lie in wait for her. The man on the screen had an eerily similar effect.

He looked at Carmen with a crease above his brow. "You don't understand my instructions?"

"I understand the plan, Admiral Leyton," she said. "It's just...why me? I only know how to _use_ weapons, not_ build _them."

"You aren't from here, Miss Riker." Leyton spread his hands out over the surface of a smooth, metal desk. "Do not underestimate the significance of that."

"Yes, but...look, the Federation I knew was a failure." Pieces of wreckage, long since buried, rose from her memory to drift before her eyes once more. "For all I know, mankind has already been wiped out over there."

Leyton's lips pressed tightly together. Then Carmen saw-or _thought _she saw-a smile flicker across his countenance. Instinctively she found herself reaching for her Betazoid senses, but it was like reaching for a hand that was no longer there.

"Just leave the details to me," he said. "It will all become clear soon enough. Remember the plan?"

Carmen nodded. There was still a child-like sense of yearning somewhere deep inside that wanted to trust him. He seemed so different from his counterpart, the Admiral Leyton who had taken her from the Enterprise and turned her into a soldier. She thought back to her trial in San Francisco, and how his deference in her had raised Riker's suspicions. Leyton had gone so far as to offer her a position with his own weapons and defense experts, but Carmen was done with the war. She just wanted to go home again. Home to where Picard still had the Enterprise, and where her father and mother still had each other. Home to where she was loved most.

How quickly everything had changed. Maybe this universe was not so different after all. And maybe, just maybe, Leyton was not so different, either. She may not have been able to use her mother's gifts at the moment, but she still had her father's shrewdness. And his poker face.

"I have to go, sir," she said. "Geordi is nearly finished with the repairs, which means we'll be moving again soon."

Leyton's hands withdrew to the edge of the desk, preparing to push his chair back. "Then godspeed," he replied. "And don't forget what I said-this is for the greater good, Miss Riker. The greater good."

The screen turned to black. Darkness surged forward, enveloping the young woman. She could practically feel it crawling along her skin. Her chest heaved as she drew in a breath and then slowly let it out again.

"What now?" she asked aloud.

Light flooded the small apartment. Carmen squinted against the sudden assault of brightness, listening as footsteps padded across the carpet. "Go back to your quarters and wait for me there," Kyle ordered. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

"Fine." As Carmen moved past him, she felt Kyle's hand come to rest on her shoulder. Stiffly, she looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Thank-you," he said. Harsh shadows fell across his face from the light directly overhead. Her lips curled into a sneer.

"For what? I haven't done anything yet."

He turned his face towards her, and some of the shadows fell away. "For trusting me," he said. Even without her Betazoid senses, she could read his sincerity.

"Yeah well...my mom trusted you," she said, shrugging his hand from her shoulder. A lump lodged in her throat, and she cleared it away sheepishly. "Anyway, I'll be in my quarters. Hurry up."

* * *

Carmen's feet moved by memory and without any conscious thought. She bumped into someone going the opposite way, heard their curt protest, but carried on as if being pulled down the hall by some invisible tide. She needed to go to her room, to find a soft place where she could sink down and let that tide sweep over her.

At long last, Carmen heaved herself across her own threshold just as her legs wanted to give up. The door closed behind her, sealing off sounds of the ship, and Carmen leaned against it with her back.

"_There_ you are!" someone exclaimed.

Just like that, her merciful solitude was snatched away. She whipped her head up, bumping it against the door, and cried out in pain and surprise. "What-? Who-?"

A patter of feet raced across her quarters. "It's just me," Sheppard called out, a bundle of blankets bouncing against his hip with every stride. "Well, me and Billy."

Carmen rubbed at the back of her head, cursing herself for forgetting that they were still there. As Sheppard approached, she could see milk stains on his clothes and a rag over one shoulder with curdled spit up. His eyes looked dark and puffy. A patch of hair in the back refused to curl, laying flat against his head in resignation.

Billy peered up at her from somewhere in the bundle of blankets. His red-rimmed eyes told her he had been crying. He began to babble at her so fervently that it sounded as though he were scolding his sister for being away so long.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, opening her arms so Sheppard could pass him over. "I already get dad's lectures all the time; I don't need yours, too!"

Carmen bent down, burying her nose in that sea of dark, wild curls. His hair smelled faintly sweet and familiar, like their mother's favorite perfume. It made her stomach turn.

"Dr. Crusher told me where you were," Sheppard said, his tone that of a gentle reproach. He stepped closer, grasping one of Billy's hands as he spoke. "All you had to do was ask, you know. I would have gone with you."

"You were sleeping," Carmen said, ignoring a pang of guilt in her conscience. "And besides...I couldn't ask that of you."

He hardly ever brought it up, but Carmen knew that those months he spent at his mother's bedside left a gaping hole in his childhood. He had watched her slip away, day by day, little by little, until the Fever exacted its price. Carmen's guilt burgeoned. She had been carrying this anguish as if it were hers and hers alone. But standing there with Billy and Sheppard, she realized that they had all lost a mother that day.

A sharp and acrid smell seeped into her senses, intruding upon her thoughts. She turned her nose up. "What's that smell?"

Sheppard's eyes flew wide. "Oh no!" He raced towards the kitchenette, fumbling his way over a pile of Billy's toys, and snatched a spatula off the counter. Frantically then, he scraped at the bottom of a pan. "I was trying to make you dinner," he explained.

"You could have just used the replicator."

"Not for pancakes!" He shook his head vigorously at the notion. "Don't be ridiculous."

"But I'm not even hungry," she insisted.

"That's why I only made five. Well, four. We're going to forget about this one."

Carmen carried her brother over to a little basket next to the table, adjusting the blanket around his face as she placed him inside. Billy had been chewing on several of his fingers, but flashed her a toothless grin once he caught her eye. She could see the dried trails of tears on his cheeks, and a swell of pity rose in her chest. The road laid out before him was not a kind one, she knew. His future. Her past. It all looked the same from where she stood.

_Unless Kyle's plan actually works._

"Allan, I think you should get some rest," she said, straightening up again. "I can watch Billy for now."

Carefully balancing a stack of pancakes, Sheppard made his way over to the table. "No, I should go to Engineering," he said. "Help us get this ship underway." He set the plate down and pulled out a chair for the young woman, motioning for her to take a seat.

But instead, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Then you should probably change into a uniform first."

Sheppard looked down at his rumpled clothes and laughed. "Oh. Right." As he lifted his shirt, Carmen helped him slip it over his head. Then she grabbed hold of his face and pulled him to her lips, trying to forget about Kyle's plan for the next few moments. She wanted to commit these little things to memory first-her baby brother's toothless grin. The smell of burnt pancakes. The warmth of Sheppard's lips sinking into hers. That feeling of being home, where she was loved most...

She broke away from him suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath. Sheppard's eyes softened with concern. "Hey…" he whispered, and reached out to touch her face. Carmen turned away, ashamed of the tears that spilled on their own accord.

"Thank you for the pancakes," she said, wiping a sleeve across her cheek. "I should...I should eat them before they get cold."

Reluctant and resigned, Sheppard withdrew to the bedroom to change. By the time he came out again, wearing a fresh uniform, she had already wolfed down three of the pancakes. A faint smile tugged at his lips. At least the food had gotten through to her. "I'll come by and check on you guys first chance I get, okay?" he promised.

Carmen heard him leave, grateful that he didn't try to say goodbye. Then she heard a whimper rising from the basket at her feet. Billy's bottom lip quivered, wrinkling his chin. He reached for the closed door with a little cry. "Hey," Carmen said. "Come on now. I need you to be brave." She lifted him from the basket and gathered him into her arms. His body gave a shuddering sigh as he nestled against her shoulder.

"Remember Janaran Falls? That's where I go when I'm scared. We brought you there right after you were born." Closing her eyes, she saw crystal clear water dancing beneath a great golden sun. She had taken her brother's hand and brushed it across the mist-covered leaves, smiling as his face filled with awe. Her mother and father had climbed one of the rocky outcrops, and when she looked up again, she saw their silhouettes carved in sunlight as they shared an impassioned kiss.

Billy grew silent and still. Carmen opened her eyes, staring at her brother in wonder. Had he seen those things, too? Could he still hear her, even though she couldn't hear him?

"You probably don't remember that place," she said, rubbing a hand across his back. "There's a lot you won't remember. Especially without mom." Janaran Falls faded from her mind's eye. She saw the Borg instead, marching in their relentless conquest across the universe. Billy tried to nestle even deeper into her arms.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I won't let them win this time. Even if it means...even if it means that you won't remember me, either. See, I used to think this was all a second chance of some kind. But it wasn't my second chance." She pulled him close, brushing her lips against his forehead. _"It was yours." _


	21. Different Directions

**Hey! Recovery is going well-REALLY well actually. My physical therapist said I am only 20 degrees away from having full range of motion again, and my surgeon cleared me to start drilling with everyone back on the jiu-jitsu mats (still no sparring, though). I've been able to eat and write with my left hand, and have even been doing some baking. It's exciting to have the use of both of my hands back, and sooner than expected! **

**A few pieces of news for you: first off, I have an artist friend who did Carmen's portrait for me, and I am THRILLED with how it turned out! I made it my profile pic if you want to see :-). Second off, I will be in the Utah desert for all of next week on our last camping trip of the summer, so no Internet and no computer until I get back. Once we return, I will update as soon as possible so that I don't leave you hanging for too long! A hundred thanks to those of you who have been leaving reviews. You are SO awesome for taking the time to do that! **

**Have a good week, everybody :-)**

* * *

"I think that'll do it, sir." Laforge wiped a balled up fist across his forehead. "We should be back in business in no time."

Riker slumped his shoulders over the master display module in relief. Crisis after crisis had plagued their attempts to repair the Enterprise, and while it had kept him mercifully busy, he could still feel the hot breath of urgency on the back of his neck. "How much longer 'til we're warp capable again?"

Laforge shrugged. "Give me ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

With a conceding grunt, Riker pushed away from the module. "Just let me know as soon as we're ready. I'll be on the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

A small crowd of crewmembers stepped aside for their new captain. They all wore the same dull, weary expression that made Riker's heart swell with pity first, and then with pride. These were the faces that made up the Enterprise. These were the hands that gave it life, gave it a soul. These were the men and women that Picard had endeavored to save.

One of the faces turned, following him as he passed. Riker paused, struck with sudden recognition. The ensign smiled. His dull, weary expression softened into something more kindly. "Hello, sir," he said.

"Allan!" Riker exclaimed, and for a moment, he felt like hugging the young man. Sheppard braced himself just in case.

"Were you uh, were you on your way to see Carmen, sir?"

"I was on my way to the...why? How is she?" Left with the enormous responsibility of a stranded ship and crew, Riker had been pulled in all directions ever since their failed encounter with the Borg. But now, an ache in his chest pulled him a different direction. He longed to see his children again. To see his wife alive and well in their smiles, where for a fleeting moment, they looked just like their mom. To safeguard what he and Troi believed to be the Enterprise's most precious cargo.

Sheppard wrung the sonic driver in his hands. "Carmen? She uh...she's with Billy," he said, carefully sidestepping the answer that Riker was looking for.

But Riker's mind was already made up. He would find out for himself how she was faring. "Thank-you, Allan," he said, patting the young man on the shoulder as he brushed past. "I appreciate it."

Sheppard nodded, and like a heavy cloak, the weariness returned. It made Riker hang back for a second. Though he recognized the weight of duty and responsibility, it was something else that had given him pause; something that reminded him of that ache in his chest. Sheppard had been carrying a lot more than just his duties and responsibilities to Engineering.

"Hey, Allan?" he prompted. "I really do appreciate it. And...and I know that Deanna would have appreciated it, too."

A smile, soft and bittersweet, chased the shadows from Sheppard's face. He said nothing, but as he resumed his work, the smile remained.

* * *

Riker stood in the middle of Carmen's quarters. Dishes cluttered the countertop, a slightly burnt smell still hanging in the air. Toys lay in a haphazard pile on the floor. A trophy sat alone on the bedside table. Everything looked as though she had just stepped out, but for some reason, the silence uneased Riker.

"_Data to Riker." _

A page from the lieutenant commander brought his mind back to the bridge. "Go on, Data. What is it?"

"_Incoming message from Admiral Hanson on subspace, sir. He has engaged the Borg at Wolf 359."_

Riker cast one more glance around the empty room as though it might offer a clue of some kind. "Be right there," he grumbled when nothing availed.

* * *

As he walked onto the bridge, Riker was greeted with an anxious silence. A few officers acknowledged his presence with a nod, but the others remained fixed on the viewscreen in anticipation. Data sat dutifully at his station, ready and awaiting Riker's order.

"On screen."

The young woman sitting across from Data flinched as a dire picture appeared. "_The fight does not go well,"_ Admiral Hanson said. His voice came distorted through the transmission. He pitched in his seat, struggling to hold on as his ship endured a brutal assault. _"We're attempting to withdraw and regroup. Rendezvous with-"_

The video cut all of a sudden, and Riker was left staring at a hauntingly empty screen. Only Data was spared the shock. His fingers moved in time with a series of fluctuating beeps as he tried to revive the connection. Eventually, his hands withdrew from the console. He looked up and shook his head.

Riker's blood ran cold, cold enough to numb his feet where they stood. The silence around him grew frigid as well, and a shiver sought to make its way down his spine.

"Your orders, sir?" Data asked. It brought Riker forward, out of his stupor. Clearing his throat, he tried his best to stand up straight.

"Lay in a course for the Wolf system," he said. "We move as soon as Laforge gives the go-ahead. I'll be in the captain's-that is, I'll be in my ready room."

His feet still numb, Riker made his way to the door standing off to one side of the bridge. Part of him still expected to find Picard brooding behind it, but instead, he was met with more silence.

The door closed behind him, making the small space feel like a tomb. Riker's eyes wandered over each painting on the wall, each artifact in its case, and the chair still angled towards him as though waiting for him to speak. "What would you do?" he asked aloud. Then he scoffed at his own question and started to turn away when something caught his eye. Something that didn't belong among the reminders of his captain. Something small and smooth and blue.

Riker approached the desk with a furrowed brow. Slowly, he picked up the rock resting on its surface. He turned it over in his hand, studying its familiar edges and grooves. _Carmen's rock._ A sickening feeling churned his stomach. This hadn't been left carelessly behind; it had been part of a deliberate gesture.

"Computer," he called. "Where is Ensign Riker?"

The computer beeped in reply, performing a quick scan of the ship. The breath stayed in his chest as he awaited the answer, only to fly from his lungs upon hearing it.

"_Ensign Riker is not aboard the Enterprise."_


	22. Answers

**I'm back! Southern Utah was AMAZING. Felt like a different planet, with the redrock canyons and thousand-year-old Anasazi ruins and animals we've never seen before. I definitely recommend Kodachrome and Bryce Canyon parks, although you will never be able to get the sand out of your car. I've vacuumed and scrubbed and it's still EVERYWHERE. Anyway, glad to be back to writing, I definitely missed having my laptop! **

**Zara08-Yikers for Riker is my new favorite phrase haha!**

**Omelettethemusical-Isn't it great? I love her work so much! She doesn't have a deviantart account, but she has an instagram. Her username is psybernetikart, and she posted the full picture there!**

**JWood201-Definitely going to be more Riker/Sheppard moments :-)**

**Jleto-Aww I loved your review so much! I think you'll like Sheppard in this chapter, too :-) **

* * *

"Riker to Sheppard-get to the bridge immediately!"

The commander's head spun. He stumbled out onto the bridge before he knew what he was doing. Worf looked up from tactical, a disturbed expression of surprise furrowing his cranial ridges.

"Sir-" he prompted, and it suddenly dawned on Riker that something had disturbed the lieutenant before he had burst onto the bridge. "I just received news from Shuttle Bay Three. It's about Carmen."

"What about her?"

Worf shook his head, unable to believe it himself. "She attacked the attending officers and stole one of our shuttles."

The news landed in Riker's gut like a punch. He turned to Data, mouth open, but had to wait for his breath to catch up. "Use a-a tractor beam," he ordered. "Bring that shuttle back."

"She is out of range, sir," Data replied, infuriatingly calm. Riker usually found a certain comfort in the android's phlegmatic personality whenever they served on the bridge together. But in the midst of his urgency, it only came off as condescending.

"Then beam her back!"

"We cannot match velocity for transport," Data reminded him. "The shuttle is approaching warp eight."

Hurling out a snarl of frustration, Riker paced to the android's console to see for himself. A prick of betrayal bled into his panic as he watched the small, green dot move farther and farther away from their location.

The turbolift doors opened and a young man stepped forth. Sheppard made his way down the ramp, wincing as a foreboding atmosphere pressed in all around him. "Sir?" he called out meekly. "You-you wanted to see me?"

Riker swung around. "Where is she going?" he thundered, and Sheppard reeled from the accusation in his eyes.

"Where…? She…?"

"Don't play with me, ensign!"

Sheppard looked from face to face for help, thoroughly flustered. "Sir I don't-what are you talking about?"

"_Why did Carmen leave?"_

The young man froze. Even his chest stopped rising with breath. Riker could see a grim horror settling into the features of his face, the same horror that twisted his own stomach into knots.

"Carmen…" Sheppard whispered her name like a plea, staring at the viewscreen as though she might somehow hear him and turn around. Riker's eyes softened as he looked upon the junior officer anew.

"You...didn't know?"

Sheppard shook his head. "I...I told her I'd come by to check on her and Billy as soon as I could. She wasn't feeling like herself, but I didn't think she'd…" His face blanched. "Oh no! Where is Billy? Do you think she would-?"

Riker swallowed against a new rise of panic. "I don't know. But we have to get to her before she reaches the Borg."

"She is not following the Borg," Data informed them, turning in his seat. "She appears to be doubling back the way we have already come."

From his station, Ensign Bryant whistled long and low. "I don't believe it-she's running away."

Sheppard's eyes snapped towards him. His expression crumpled into a look of disdain that Riker had never seen him wear before. Carmen, sure. But not the mild-mannered young man who stumbled over his words any time he spoke in the commander's presence. "Are you calling her a_ bichnuch?"_

"A what?" Bryant blinked in bewilderment. "I was just saying, with all she's been through or whatever, maybe she didn't want to-"

"She's not a coward!" Sheppard roared, lunging suddenly towards the other officer. Riker caught his arm at the last second, nearly spinning him all the way around.

"Hold it right there," he warned, though something akin to approval undermined his rebuke.

The turbolift doors opened again. This time, a man with silvery white hair stepped out, clumsily trying to cradle a baby boy in his arms. The infant wailed at the top of his lungs, red-faced and inconsolable. A dark curl clung to his cheek, dampened with tears.

"Billy!" Sheppard cried. He tried to race up the ramp, but Riker still had a hold of his arm.

"What are_ you _doing here?" Shoving the young man behind him, Riker marched up first. Billy stopped mid-wail, reaching towards the sound of his father's voice.

"Da! Da!" he pleaded.

Riker gathered him into his arms, crooning under his breath as the baby nestled against him. Billy grasped his collar tightly, babbling a long list of injustices to his father.

Meanwhile, Kyle stood there wringing his now-empty hands. "Carmen...she uh, left him with me. But I can't seem to get him to stop crying."

"Carmen, huh?" Slowly, Riker's face drew taut. "Mister Data, you have the bridge," he said. "And Allan-you have Billy."

One of his hands rose up, finding its way to his son's, and surrounded it tenderly for a moment. Then, eyes still trained on Kyle, he passed the baby over to a rather relieved Ensign Sheppard.

"You've been pretty eager to talk since you got here," he said, resuming his march towards his father. Kyle backed up, inadvertently stepping into the turbolift. Riker followed, driving him further into the small space. The doors closed behind them. _"So let's talk." _

Kyle's eyes flicked nervously from his son to the closed doors. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

"I want to know what your role is in all of this."

"I came here to help, and that's the truth." Kyle made an attempt to posture up. "I've been telling the truth this whole time, Will."

"You just left a few things out, right?" Riker sneered. "Now where is she? Where did Carmen go?"

"She's on her way to see Admiral Leyton."

"Leyton? Now?" Riker balked. "Why the hell would she do that? I thought she didn't trust him."

"No, she doesn't trust him. And neither do I. For that matter, neither does President Jaresh."

Surprise flitted across the commander's face, erasing his lines of resentment. "But you...you said Leyton was the one who sent you here."

"He was. I've been working behind his back, in tandem with certain members of the council. There is more going on here than you know about. More than even Captain Picard knew about."

Riker took half a step back. Though an intense curiosity burned behind his eyes, he smoothed the emotion from the rest of his face. "Keep talking," he ordered.

Kyle drew in a deep breath. "We have reason to believe that Leyton has been building something in secret."

"Why would he work in secret?"

"Because men in power don't like to share." A hollow smile curled Kyle's lips. There was something pointed about his remark that Riker pretended not to notice.

"Well, what is he building?"

"A weapon of some kind. That ion trail you found...I think it was one of Leyton's ships, testing out this new device."

Riker's eyes widened. "You mean it's a weapon that can work against the Borg?"

"Not yet, apparently. He must be on the verge, but...he's still missing something."

A grim realization came over the commander. "Carmen…"

Kyle nodded. "Yes, Carmen."

Riker's head began to spin all over again. "No. You're wrong." He circled the turbolift restlessly. "If she knew how to build something like that, she would've told us."

"I know." Kyle's shoulders drooped with shame. "I just wish I had known that earlier. See, I thought she was in on it. That she was deliberately holding out for some reason. I was...mistaken. After seeing her with Deanna…" His lips pursed together with a brief tremble. "She would have stopped this if she had the power to. I know that now."

"Then why? Why would Leyton need her?" Riker felt his throat closing. He wanted answers, but had a feeling that he didn't want this one.

The shame on Kyle's shoulders grew heavier and heavier. "I don't know," he admitted. "Neither does Carmen. He wasn't exactly forthcoming when she contacted him."

"And you let her go?!" Riker shoved him against the wall, pinning him in place with the lapels of his uniform. "You sent her out there all alone? Don't you give a damn about anybody but yourself?"

"I give a damn about you! I give a damn about this ship, and stopping that blasted cube from reaching Earth! I didn't _send_ Carmen-she went willingly!"

"She's reckless!" Riker roared, his anger misdirected. "She doesn't understand the risks-"

Kyle interrupted him with a short, dry laugh. "Of course she's reckless! She's your daughter! Damnit, Will. You couldn't have stopped her from leaving the Enterprise any more than I could've stopped you from leaving Alaska. But maybe...maybe that's the kind of person we need right now."

With a grunt of disgust, Riker pushed away from him. He paced to the other side of the turbolift to seethe in silence. Kyle watched his son's back, an increasingly familiar sight. "Will...please," he said, softening his tone. "I don't know why it always comes down to us two. But I'm here. I'm here for you now, and I promised Carmen that I wouldn't shut you out this time."

Riker's hand slid towards a panel on the wall. As he pressed it with his palm, the turbolift doors opened. "I told you to stay out of my way," he said, clearing his throat to keep his voice from catching. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."


	23. Chicken Soup

"Engines are back to full power, sir," Data reported as soon as Riker returned to the bridge. "Would you like me to lay in a new heading for the shuttlecraft, or continue on course to the Wolf system?" Turning his head, he stared at the commander expectantly.

Sheppard stared at him, too. He clasped Billy to his chest, moving in a gentle rock to soothe the baby's whimpering cries. Though he said nothing aloud, Riker could read a plea for Carmen written plainly across his face. In that moment, the commander found himself staring back at his own worst fears.

Down one path lay Riker's duty to Starfleet. And down the other, his responsibility to his family. The two paths had always run close enough, but now they diverged. All those years of hiding on the bridge, cowering behind walls of duty and denial, had been to avoid this very moment. Because deep down, Riker knew which path he would have to choose.

"Continue on course to the Wolf system."

* * *

After dismissing Sheppard back to Engineering, Riker took leave of the bridge. It would be a few hours until they reached their destination, and he needed that time to collect his thoughts. While he knew he needed rest, he couldn't bring himself to face the loneliness of his quarters just yet, so he stopped by sickbay instead. A lecture from Dr. Crusher sounded like a heart-warming prospect at the moment.

Billy snored from his shoulder, where he had fallen asleep to the rise and fall of his father's footsteps. Every now and then he would make a little shudder or a faint cry, and Riker would rub a hand over his back until he settled down again. The infant's company, warm and sleepy, seemed to ease a dull ache somewhere.

Crusher's staff moved carefully around him as they worked late into the night. They kept diligent watch over the wounded, who slept in tidy rows of crisp, white cots and paid no attention to their new captain passing by. He walked among them like a ghost, drifting through the bay until he reached a door that would not open automatically. Billy stirred as he approached this door, and Riker smiled sadly.

"You know she's in there, don't you?" he said, keeping his voice at a low rumble. He pressed a palm to the door's cool exterior, picturing the body that lay on the other side and imagining, for just a moment, that she was waiting for him.

_I'm here, imzadi. I'm right here. _

He paused, just in case she might answer.

_Billy misses you. I might have to walk every deck of this ship to keep him asleep. How did you do that thing with Carmen, where you could make her dream of Janaran Falls? _

He tried to invoke images of that jungle paradise, but all he could see was their daughter's forlorn figure standing in the doorway, wearing shadows of her past. "Hey dad," she'd mumble, rubbing her toe into the ground. "Is mom awake? I can't...I can't sleep."

Sometimes she wanted to talk about her nightmares, and sometimes she didn't. Either way, Riker would bring her a mug of hot cocoa from the replicator as Troi made up the sofa. Then Carmen would crawl under the blankets, her eyes dark and heavy, and tuck one of Troi's hands under her cheek like a pillow.

For a day or two afterwards, Carmen would stay close to her mother. She'd sit in Troi's office between appointments instead of going out with friends. Sheppard and Kerry eventually learned to give her space on such occasions, assuring the others that she'd be her old self again in no time.

Riker's hand, still pressed to the door, balled into a fist. _It feels like everything is coming undone, without you here to hold us together. How do I stop this? How do I bring you back?_

"Will?"

He felt someone touch him on the shoulder. Dr. Crusher stood at his side, watching him worriedly. He waited for a reprimand, for an order to go get some rest, but instead she just tilted her head towards her office. "Come on, I've got some chicken soup."

* * *

The blinds had been closed over two large windows behind Crusher's desk. A potted palm sat in the corner, resting within a circle of light shed by a nearby sconce. Cool air blew down from a vent, humming peacefully, and Billy curled himself tighter against his father's chest.

"Dive right in," Crusher bade. Little wisps of steam rose from the spoon in her hand. She sat across from Riker at the massive desk, which had been set with chicken soup, a plate of crackers, a leafy salad, and a pitcher of water.

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble for me," Riker said, shifting Billy's weight into one arm so he could eat.

"I didn't," she replied, a flash of something flippant in her smile. "I did it for Carmen. But the food is getting cold, so eat up."

His ears pricked at the name. "You spoke with her? Before she left?"

Crusher nodded, picking up a handful of crackers and crumbling them into her soup. "She came in earlier, caused a scene." As Riker's eyes widened, so did the doctor's grin. "Don't worry, it was nothing I couldn't handle. She was just...lashing out, I suppose."

"That's what I was afraid of," Riker muttered. "She didn't hurt anybody, did she?"

"Not on purpose. Which, I might point out, is considerable progress."

A smile crept into the corner of Riker's mouth. "Just please tell me it wasn't Bettencourt."

"Sorry," Crusher said, an impish glint in her eye. "It was like your wedding all over again. Remember when you tried to teach Carmen how to swing dance, and you swung her right into that poor young man and broke his nose?"

"Well how was I supposed to know he was _right _there?"

The ensuing laughter made Billy's head bounce against his father's chest. He stirred, yawned, and then promptly fell back asleep. A stray curl fell over his eyes, and Riker brushed it aside with his thumb.

Crusher sighed, settling deeper into her seat. She held the bowl between her hands, sipping away at the broth. "Don't be too hard on her, Will," she said. "I'm sure it wasn't easy for her to leave."

"Yeah, well-"

"And don't be too hard on yourself, either."

She smiled at him from behind her bowl. It vexed the commander in a way that felt familiar, even comforting. He leaned back in his chair, tucking Billy's head under his chin. "I don't know, Beverly. It's my first day as captain, and things aren't exactly looking good."

"It's a learning curve," she quipped. "And anyway, have you heard of John Paul Jones?"

"John Paul Jones?" Riker's face blanked.

"Jean Luc loaned me a book once called _Six Frigates_. It told the story of John Paul Jones, a naval hero in America's revolutionary days." Something distant in her gaze, a certain spark of nostalgia, reminded Riker of their former captain. "During one particularly hopeless battle," she continued, "with his ship lying in ruins and his crew on the verge of despair, the enemy called out to ask if he would surrender."

"Well? What did he say?"

"_I have not yet begun to fight." _An indomitable remnant of John Paul Jones' defiance shone from the edges of her smile. "Don't worry, Will. We have not yet begun to fight."


	24. The Greater Good

"Computer, play 'The Very Thought of You' by Carmen McRae."

Soft, sweet sounds filled the shuttlecraft. Carmen closed her eyes, letting a swell of violins carry her across the musical landscape. A harp left little, ringing notes in the air that lingered behind like specks of dust in sunlight. A piano rambled at her feet. And through it all, like a river, flowed the words that she knew so well.

_I'm living in a kind of daydream_

_I'm happy as a king_

_And foolish though it may seem_

_To me, that's everything_

"Computer, stop."

A jarring silence returned. Those words, which had once brought the young woman comfort, now only made her feel a sense of loss more profoundly. Carmen wiped at her eyes. The daydream was over.

Straightening in her seat, she checked the scanners one more time, just to be sure that the Enterprise had not come after her. Negative. The coast was clear. Carmen breathed out deeply, trying to ignore a pang of disappointment that burrowed into her heart like a thorn.

She drew up a picture in her mind of her father finding the blue rock she had left on Picard's desk. Then, like the music, she banished it quickly. The more she thought about him, the more she felt the crushing weight of her solitude. A chill, cold as space itself, seemed to seep down into her bones. _The greater good,_ Leyton had said. _It's for the greater good._

When she finally reached the coordinates given to her by the admiral, she found a Federation cargo ship lying in wait. It locked onto her shuttle and pulled her in with a tractor beam. Two men were waiting for her as soon as she ventured out of the safety of her shuttle.

"Ensign Riker?" the first asked. He stood tall, nearly as tall as her father, with dusty brown hair and a shadow of stubble along his jaw. There was a certain aloofness about him that seemed to border on disdain. "I am Commander Talbot. This is Lieutenant-Commander Laird. We will be taking you the rest of the way."

"Is it much farther?"

Talbot didn't answer her. Instead, he turned and marched briskly up a metal gangway, leaving Carmen behind with his companion.

Laird was a smaller man, with a slight hunch in his posture and thin, pointed features. He flashed her a V-shaped smile. "Not much of a talker, that one." A strange accent colored his words as he spoke. "But no, it isn't much farther. Hungry?"

Though Laird was clearly making an attempt at friendliness, or at least more of an attempt than Talbot, something about his smile seemed condescending. "I'll eat later," she declined.

"Suit yourself." Laird shrugged his bony shoulders. "Anyway, if you don't mind-" He made a gesture towards the weapon at her waist.

"You want my phaser?"

"Just a bit of protocol."

Her hand covered it protectively. "I am a Starfleet officer," she declared. "And I am here as an invited guest of Admiral Leyton, so you can take your protocol and shove it-"

"Whoa now, I meant no offense!" he said with a dry, nervous chuckle. "But surely you can appreciate that these are, uh, special circumstances. Admiral Leyton would say so himself."

His long fingers stretched towards her waist. She glared at him, a snarl curling her lips, but begrudgingly moved her hand aside to let him remove the phaser from its clip.

"And your knife, if you please."

Growling, she reached into her boot for the hidden hilt of her _daqtagh_. Laird's eyes flashed with relief as she thrust it into his palm.

"There now," he chirped. "Welcome aboard, Ensign Riker. We're pleased to have you."

* * *

Laird ushered her into an observation lounge. To her chagrin, he hovered nearby for the duration of the flight, casting her one of his phony smiles whenever she looked his way. More than once, Carmen thought she caught a whiff of something insidious somewhere on the edge of her Betazoid senses. A strange hint of familiarity also tugged at her senses, as though she had met this man before. But every time she tried to place it, the feeling flitted away again.

Presently, the ship dropped out of warp and slowed to impulse speeds. Carmen pressed her forehead to one of the windows, hoping to get a look at their destination. Up ahead, lurking in the shadows of space, she could make out a C-shaped structure.

"Base 1911," Laird said, standing right next to her all of a sudden. "Looks cozy, eh?"

Another ship had already been docked at the base's center. It listed to the side like a wounded bird. Battlescars gouged its surface. A blackened crater had all but destroyed one of its long, curved wings.

Carmen's eyes widened. Slowly, she pulled away from the window. It was a Romulan Warbird.

* * *

Once they had disembarked, Laird led her to a holding area. A security officer moved forward and began to pat the young woman down.

"He already took my weapons," she snapped. But the guard carried on with his search, heedless of her scathing tone.

"Miss Riker!"

Admiral Leyton appeared, his arms spread out in a greeting. "You made it! Don't mind Lieutenant Chavez please, he's merely doing his job."

Chavez dug a finger into the top of her boot, pulling something forth. As he turned to show the admiral, Carmen snatched at the lump of gold in his palm.

"Give that back!" she cried. "It's from my father!"

Leyton plucked it from the lieutenant's hand and studied it carefully. "Commander Riker gave you this?"

Carmen nodded, biting her lip. "Yes, after the Borg attacked our ship. It's...from Alaska. Home."

Memories of that night floated to the front of her mind. She could hear her father rambling to Billy as he cooked dinner, and Billy's little sighs of devotion. She could feel her mother guiding her thoughts towards hope. She could see Sheppard's private smile as he clasped her hand under the table._ Home._

"Return it," Leyton ordered, handing the gold to his guard. "It may be all that's left of Alaska if we don't hurry."

Carmen took it back with a stifled sob of relief, clutching it to her chest for a moment. "Thank you," she said. "Now please-can we get on with this?"

A smile spread across Leyton's face. "Come with me, Miss Riker. There's something I want to show you."

* * *

She followed Leyton through the base, where everything was the same drab shade of gray. Several men in uniforms passed them in the hall, their faces just as drab. At last, just as Carmen's patience was beginning to wear thin, they reached a set of heavy double doors. An officer stood guard outside these doors, but he stepped aside as they approached. "After you," Leyton bade, gesturing the young woman onward.

She stepped into a dimly lit room, with a tiled floor and a curved row of windows along one wall. Leyton asked the guard to remain outside and then followed her in. The doors closed behind him.

Carmen only faintly registered these things, for her attention had attached to something just outside the windows.

"Do you recognize it?" Leyton asked, drawing himself up behind her. The hulking bow a ship came into view.

"It's a Romulan Warbird," she replied. "But why is it-"

"Miss Riker, have you ever wondered why Captain Picard was so eager to make an alliance with the Romulans?"

"Captain...Picard?" She looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"The other Captain Picard. The one you knew as a child. Before he died, he had been trying to make a secret alliance with Admiral Alidar, had he not?"

Swallowing the painful memory, Carmen nodded. "Yes, that's right. He was tired of fighting, I suppose."

"Or he knew something else."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her temper flaring defensively.

"The Romulans have always been adept with technology, even in your universe." Leyton ran a hand down the front of his uniform. "Did you ever think maybe they found a way to fight the Borg?"

"There were rumors of a weapon like that, yes. I already told the council that."

"And what if the rumors were true?" His eyes fixed on hers. "A good reason for Picard to align himself with a Romulan admiral."

"Picard wanted peace. He wasn't after some...some tactical advantage," she growled.

Leyton took hold of her shoulders earnestly. "Think like a leader," he urged. "You must obtain an advantage first. Only then can you obtain peace."

"No." She shook his hands off. "That's not thinking like a leader-that's not thinking like Picard. Now why did you bring me here?"

A spark of anger flashed briefly behind his eyes. Carmen felt the prick of something sharp in her mind, and the sensation caught her off-guard. The walls of the inhibitor's prison were beginning to crack.

"Perhaps you are right," Leyton said, smoothing his face with a smile. "Perhaps Picard was grasping at ideals, after all. And look where it led him."

"At least he died with a clear conscience," she sneered. Her hands twitched at her sides, and she had half a mind to knock that smile off his face.

He nudged his chin towards the Warbird. "Do you recognize it?"

"You already asked me that!"

"Look again. You've seen that ship before."

Inching closer to the window, she glanced quickly at the battlecruiser and then back at Leyton. "I...I don't…"

"This is the ship that destroyed the Enterprise," he explained._ "Your_ Enterprise. Did you really think you were the only one who crossed over?"

Her blood turned to ice. She inched backwards again, bumping against the window.

"I have been looking for an advantage for a long time," he continued. "And I finally found one."

"You-you've been stealing Romulan technology?"

"Not stealing-this time, I bargained for it."

"Bargained?"

His smile curled with smugness. "The rumors were true. Alidar's crew confessed, you see. But you know how Romulans are. They were willing to die before sharing their technology."

"You killed them?" Rage seeped into her voice, steadying the fear that sought to make it tremble.

"Does it bother you? It shouldn't; you've killed dozens of Romulans in your service to Starfleet." He revelled in the way his words made her flinch. "At any rate, we left Alidar alive. But I had to find a way to make him give me what I needed-to give me an advantage."

"H-how? What have you done to him?"

"Like I said, I made a bargain." Leyton took a step back, into the shadows, and she heard a rap as he knocked on the door. "Thank-you for coming, Miss Riker. Because of you, the Federation will have what it needs to fight the Borg."

The door opened and Leyton slipped out of view. Something shifted in the corner of the room, making Carmen's heart leap into her throat. "Leyton!" she shouted. A shadow pulled away from the darkness, and a hot gust of hatred blew over her senses. She darted forward to pound on the door. "Get back here, Leyton! Do you hear me?"

The first strike, which landed near her right temple, made her sink against the door in a daze. Carmen's instincts made a dull clamor to fight back, but it was too late. Her attacker was already upon her.


	25. Trouble

"_Come on in!"_

_The door slid open and a jaunty dixieland tune assailed Carmen's ears. She stepped across the threshold, bracing herself against a series of loud, brassy bursts from her father's trombone. He stood in the middle of the living room, cheeks puffing in time with the music and his right hand skillfully moving the slider back and forth. A sea of Billy's toys surrounded him, and Carmen suspected that her father had left them there to act as an impromptu audience. "Where's mom?" she called out over the noise._

_Riker paused. He moved his lips a few inches away from the mouthpiece. "Did you say something?"_

"_I said where's mom!" she shouted._

_Riker let the trombone drop to his side. "Computer," he ordered. "Pause the music!"_

_To Carmen's relief, the music subsided instantaneously. Riker stepped closer, studying her tear-stained face with a pinch of worry between his brows. "Your mom's still working. Why? What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing." Carmen sighed glumly. "I'll be alright."_

"_Hey, wait a minute," he said as she turned to leave. "Come on, you can talk to me. Take a seat." Nudging toys aside with his foot, Riker cleared a path to the sofa. _

"_I said I'll be alright," she repeated, a little more tersely. _

_He picked up one of the pillows, fluffed it a few times, and set it back down with a pat. "You won't even notice a difference. Just watch." _

"_What do you mean, a difference?" _

_But he had already left, disappearing down the hallway towards the bedroom. Carmen stared after him, her face wrenched in confusion. Though she could have easily slipped out the door, she found her curiosity getting the better of her. _

"_Okay, I'm waiting!" she called, taking a seat on the sofa. _

_Riker came back into the room, sauntering across the floor with a distinctly feminine gait. Carmen burst out laughing. "So you're pretending to be mom now? Is that it?"_

_Not breaking character, Riker perched himself on the edge of an armchair. With his ankles crossed and his hands resting delicately over his knees, he cleared his throat. "Now then," he said, imitating Troi's lighter timbre. "What's troubling you?"_

_Carmen bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out again. She settled into the cushions, playing along. "Well...it's Allan."_

"_Allan?" he thundered. Then, remembering himself, he covered his mouth with a dainty cough. "That uh, that sounds like a problem for your father. One moment, please."_

_He hurried out of the room and, in a flash, reappeared. "What's this about Allan?" he demanded, cracking each of his knuckles individually. "Because I know some Ferengi who might be able to help us out. At the right price, of course-" _

"_Dad, no!"_

"_Or I can just get him transferred to another ship. How soon do you want him gone?"_

"_**Dad!**__" _

"_Okay, okay." Riker sat back down on the edge of the armchair. "So what's going on?"_

_Slowly, the smile slid off her face. "Keiko...she kicked me out of the arboretum again."_

"_I thought this was about Allan?"_

"_It__** is**__ about Allan." One of her hands waved in the air, trying to articulate something. "It's just...you know how much he loves the arboretum. He keeps inviting me to go with him, keeps trying to share that with me, and I...I keep blowing it."_

_Riker nodded slowly. "Well, I'm sure he'll forgive you. Keiko, on the other hand..."_

"_That's not the point!" Carmen insisted. "I know he'll forgive me. He always forgives me. But...maybe he shouldn't."_

_Tilting his chin back, Riker regarded her through half-closed lids. "What are you saying?"_

"_I mean...maybe he's better off without me. All I do is make a lot of trouble for him, it seems."_

_Her father snorted. "You make a lot of trouble for everyone, Carmen."_

"_Gee, thanks dad." She stood up with an angry tug of her uniform. "I think I'll just wait for mom to-"_

"_Sit back down," he ordered. "I'm not done."_

_Despite the scalding glare she shot him, Riker stared across the floor evenly. She hurled out a snarl, but still he did not waver. Eventually her defiance began to wither, and she sank down onto the sofa with her arms folded across her chest. "Go on, then."_

"_It's like this…" He pushed off the chair to stand up. "You know that drink your mom really likes? The one she always orders when we're at Ten Forward?"_

"_Isn't it called a Samarian Sunset?"_

"_Yeah, that's the one." He ambled over to the sofa, hiking up the knees of his pants as he sat down. "It's just a boring, colorless drink at first. And it stays that way until you shake things up. Only then does it morph into something beautiful. Something exciting."_

_Carmen stared at him skeptically. "It's a drink."_

"_It's a metaphor!" he retorted. "Maybe I'm butchering it, I don't know. Guinan told me something along those lines a few years ago. And you know what she was talking about?"_

"_A drink?"_

_His jaw jutted out in a scowl. "This! She was talking about **this**!"_

_"Huh?"_

_"See, I was upset that day because I thought I wanted my old life back," he explained. "My old, colorless life. I had all these plans, and then you came crashing into our lives-literally-and shook things up." _

_The shadow of a smile passed over her lips. "I messed things up pretty good, didn't I?"_

"_You bet! Now I've got a wife, two kids-and a whole lot of trouble." He flashed her a grin, mischievous at first, then softly sincere. "But I forgive you. Because now, I see what life can be. And trust me, Allan will forgive you, too." He patted her on the knee. "But just in case he doesn't, I still have those Ferengi contacts-"_

"_Daad…"_

"_Just kidding. Sort of." _

_With a sigh that seemed to let go of the last of her worries, Carmen settled gratefully against his side. "So do you have to go back to work soon?" she asked._

"_Not for a few hours. Want to get your trombone and play some dixieland with me?"_

_"I was just going to ask you the same thing."_

* * *

Carmen felt something cold pressed beneath her cheek. The ground. She was lying on the ground. In some distant part of her mind, Carmen realized that she was also lying on top of her arm. But as she tried to roll over, pain spread throughout her body like fire.

She cried out sharply, her eyes flying open. The arm beneath her lay bent at a grotesque angle. A puddle of blood near her mouth was beginning to congeal. More blood splattered the walls and the windows, a testament to the brutality she had just endured.

Alidar had beaten her with ruthless abandon, and she feared that he would not stop until she was dead. Then, as her mind slipped into darkness, she clung to the first memory that drifted by. It had been so vivid, so real, as though she had just been sitting next to her father on that sofa. Echoes of a dixieland tune still played in her head.

The door opened suddenly and Carmen lurched to her feet. She hissed as a new jolt of pain racked her body.

"Ah. Glad to see you're awake again, Miss Riker." Leyton's voice made her blood boil. She tried to lunge forward, but her legs buckled uselessly beneath her. "Come now," he clucked. "You might hurt yourself."

"What do you want, Leyton?" she rasped, clutching at her broken arm.

His footsteps paused in front of the young woman. He crouched over his knees, peering down at her with feigned sympathy. "I thought you might want to hear the good news. Alidar has given us the modulation codes."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"It means there's hope for Earth yet."

"I told you, Admiral Leyton-" A new voice slithered across the room. "I am a man of my word."

Carmen recoiled from the voice, which belonged to tall figure standing just inside the threshold. Though his face was still in shadow, she could feel the cold intensity of his gaze. His uniform, once silver and gleaming, was now tired and torn and covered in flecks of her blood. "Alidar…" she breathed.

The Romulan's hands clasped together behind his back. "Can I assume, Leyton, that you are a man of your word as well?"

"Yes, yes," Leyton grumbled, climbing to his feet.

"Then my ship-"

"You will be returned to your ship once the Borg have been destroyed. I need to make sure this weapon works." With a sharp whistle, Leyton ordered two men forward. They came into the room, standing guard as the admiral withdrew from their midst. Then, phasers still trained on Carmen and Alidar, they backed into the hallway and waited for the door to close.

Carmen found herself alone with Alidar once more. Her heart pounded in her ears. "Wh-what did he mean?" she asked.

Alidar wandered over to the windows, hands still clasped behind his back. "Leyton promised to let me go home," he said, staring wistfully at the Warbird.

"And you believed him?" She saw his shoulders stiffen at the insinuation. "He's just using you, Alidar-"

"Silence!"

His anger was beginning to swell. It filled up the room, pushing against her senses. Carmen's breathing quickened, but she refused to let it turn into a whimper. "This is about your son, isn't it? That's why you did this to me? I'm not the one who killed him, you know."

"You didn't save him, either," he said, his voice quivering with rage. "That's what you told me, right before I destroyed your ship. You could have saved him, and did not."

"There wasn't time! It was Commander Wharton-he killed your son. He killed all the Romulan prisoners aboard my ship." Bitter tears swam in her vision. "Picard tried to stop him, but Wharton killed him, too. We both lost something that day."

Alidar turned his head, and his eyes bore into her from across the room. "Is it true that you helped Wharton? You helped him turn against Picard?"

"I didn't know he would go that far," Carmen lamented. Her face clouded with shame. "He was only supposed to take control of the ship. I-I was following Leyton's orders. He used me, too, don't you see?"

"And look at you now!" Alidar pushed away from the windowsill. "Back on your ship. Back in the Federation's good graces. All while I have _nothing_."

Carmen tried to drag herself away as he stalked towards her. "Your son-he's still alive in this universe! We found him! We saved him from the Tal Shiar-"

"I know," he sneered, looming over her. "Leyton tried to bargain for him instead, when procuring you proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. But my son...he is not the same. He doesn't _understand_." Alidar shook his head. "There is no future for him here. Not with the Tal Shiar looking for him. We will have to bring him with us."

"Bring him with us?" she gulped. "I-I don't understand."

A hollow smile twisted the Romulan's lips. "I am taking us home, child. Back to where we belong. Perhaps one day, Toleel will accept me and I will have a son again. But you-" He leaned closer, jabbing a finger against her chest. "-you will know what it is like to have _nothing_."


	26. A Dash of Hope

**Sorry this took longer than normal to get out! Been fighting some serious colds over here. Anyway, I outlined the rest of this story and there are ten chapters left. I'm excited to start getting into the action but I'm also very reluctant to end this haha. You guys are the greatest, thanks for reading and for your heartfelt reviews! I always love hearing from you :-) **

* * *

Kyle read the lines of text on his PADD again and again, drumming his fingers against the sides of a coffee mug. Its contents had long since grown cold. The message, which had been waiting for him when he returned to his quarters, tied a knot of dread in his stomach.

_Admiral Leyton has dropped out of contact. Advise me immediately if Ensign Riker has any success. In the meantime, we will carry on with evacuation procedures. -President Jaresh Inyo_

There weren't enough resources to evacuate Earth, Kyle knew. Nor was there enough time. If Hanson's fleet failed to stop the Borg, then Leyton was their only hope. "Whatever that bastard is planning, it better be good," Kyle grumbled, swinging the cup to his lips. Immediately, he spat the cold coffee out. Sputtering a few choice words, he hoisted himself to his feet to get a fresh cup from the replicator. Before he could place his order, however, a knock at the door made him pause.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder. A dash of hope sprang up somewhere in his chest, but he buried it quickly. If it was Will, then he had come there out of necessity. He had come in need of answers, not in need of his father.

The knock sounded again, a little louder this time. Kyle pulled out one of the chairs at the table, gave the cushion a quick brush of his hand, and then hurried to answer the door. Yet when it slid back, it was not the face of his son he saw standing upon his threshold. It was the face of a troubled young man.

His eyes were dark and sunken. His dusty brown hair was a mess. His lips, thin and pale, kept pursing and then parting as though he were gathering the courage to speak.

"You…" Kyle said, a faint spark of recognition jogging his memory. "What was your name again?"

"Ensign Sheppard, sir," he answered.

"That's right." Kyle realized then that the young man looked almost unrecognizable without the youngest member of the Riker family in his arms. "And you're...the nanny?"

"The what? Oh, uh, no." Sheppard ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to smooth it, but the curls bounced right back. "Please, Mr. Riker-do you know where Carmen went? The commander-er, I guess he's the captain now-he told Data not to follow her shuttle. Why would he do that? Why would he give up on her?"

Kyle's gaze softened. So Carmen was the young man's focus, not Billy. His distress was induced by more than exhaustion, more than the Borg even. His distress was the kind only a woman could inspire.

"Come on in," the older man offered. "You look like you need to sit down."

Sheppard stumbled inside. Kyle stared after him, mildly surprised. He had expected him to put up an argument, to demand answers. But instead, the junior officer sat down at the table and buried his head in his hands, dejected and compliant.

"Do you uh...do you like chili?" Kyle felt compelled to offer him something.

"No thank you, sir."

"Have some coffee, then." Again, Kyle expected some form of protest. And again, the young man offered none.

After two mugs appeared on the replicator tray, Kyle carried them over to the table. The coffee, rich and black, lapped at the rim of the mug he set in front of his guest.

"You do know where she is, don't you?" Sheppard asked.

Kyle sank into the chair across from him. "I do," he admitted. "She's...well, she's doing her part right now. Just as we must do ours. That's why Will didn't go after her."

"But _where_ is she?" He tried to hold Kyle's gaze, but his eyes kept flitting away as though unused to making demands.

Kyle drew in a long sip of coffee, the bitter aroma swirling beneath his nose. Once he was finished, he slung an arm across the back of his chair. "By now, she is with Admiral Leyton," he said. "I don't know more than that, I'm afraid."

Sheppard nodded. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of his mug, gripping it tightly. "Is she going to come back?"

The question seemed to have taken an immense amount of energy. And bravery. Once more, Kyle felt compelled to offer him something. "Look…" he said. "Before she left, I gave her an emergency beacon. It will help us find her again when this is all over."

But the answer only seemed to distress Sheppard further. "I thought you said she's with Admiral Leyton? Why would we need to find her?"

"We don't know where Leyton is," Kyle explained. "Or what he's up to."

"But he's a member of the council! Surely _someone_-."

"Carmen is that someone now."

The young man fell silent. He looked away, his hand still gripping the handle of his mug for dear life. "Does the commander-I mean the captain-know about this?"

"He knows that she went after Leyton, yes." Kyle sighed plaintively. "But he wouldn't listen to much more of what I had to say."

"Isn't he-I mean, aren't you-you're his father, right?"

Kyle studied him for a moment. "They didn't tell you about me, did they?" he asked.

Sheppard shook his head. "No, sir."

"Probably for the better. You seem like a nice young man." He gave a short, wry laugh. "You have my condolences, for getting mixed up with the likes of us."

"I don't mind. Really." At last, Sheppard lifted his mug from the table. As he took his first sip, Kyle noticed him hide the beginning of a smile. And then, because the old man was tired, or because he had finally found a pair of sympathetic ears, or because there was something gentle and honest about Sheppard's company that he hadn't noticed before, Kyle felt the story building on his tongue like a confession.

"Will's mother died when he was very young, you see," he began. "She was...an amazing woman. A strong woman. She helped me build our cabin, out there in the Alaskan bush. And she didn't just build our home, she _made_ it a home. After she died, it was just...it was just a roof and four walls."

Kyle's smile waned. He picked up his coffee, but did not take a drink. "I wasn't much of a father after that. Hell, I wasn't much of a man, either. I tried my best, but I know it wasn't enough. I don't blame Will for being angry."

"I was angry, too," Sheppard said quietly. Then, as though startled by the fact that he'd spoken aloud, he stared down into his cup.

"Beg your pardon?" Kyle prodded.

"I mean..after my mom died...I was angry for a long time, too." As he continued, his voice picked up speed. "Counselor Troi...she said that it's a survival technique. That we get angry because if we're angry, then it's us holding onto the pain instead of the pain holding onto us. But as long as we're holding onto the pain, she said-" He stopped abruptly, turning red in the cheeks. "I'm sorry. Carmen says I ramble when I'm nervous."

"No, go on." Kyle smiled at him from across the table. "Counselor Troi said that so long as we're holding onto the pain…"

"...then we can't hold onto more important things," he finished, and shrank back behind his coffee.

Thoughtfully, Kyle rubbed his jaw. "So you're not a botanist. You're not the nanny. Are you the counselor's assistant, by chance?"

"No, sir. I'm just one of her clients."

"Aren't we all," Kyle said, chuckling softly. "Aren't we-" The words, and the chuckle, died in his throat. Streaks of light outside the window contracted into twinkling stars, filling the black void of space. As the ship continued to slow, dropping out of warp, a grisly scene took shape. "God almighty…"

Kyle moved towards the window, lured by a horrified sense of awe. All around them drifted the mangled remains of Hanson's fleet. Some of the ships still smoldered, flickering like those distant stars. The wreckage seemed to stretch out indefinitely, a graveyard of twisted metal where the Federation's finest once stood. The battle was lost, and there was nothing to mark their sacrifice but a haunting silence and crumpled pieces of debris.

"Mr. Riker," Sheppard said, gulping as he drew up alongside him. "Do you think that...Counselor Troi and Carmen…"

For a moment, Kyle saw himself standing in the middle of Betty's garden. He saw the dying beds of harebells. The overgrown weeds. He remembered how it felt, to have hope slip through his fingers as easily as the soil.

"We'll get them back," he promised, clamping a hand over the young man's shoulder. "We'll get them both back."

* * *

Riker turned away from the window, the carnage burned into his vision. Names and faces passed through his mind. Old shipmates. Friends and allies. Those who, like him, had devoted their lives to peace and exploration. Not this. Never this.

A sudden banging, like that of a gavel, made him look sharply at the conference of senior officers behind him. His son sat in Dr. Crusher's lap. She had one arm draped across his belly, holding him upright as he repeatedly whaled on the edge of the table with a rattle. Though Crusher tried to shush him, he clobbered the table with gleeful abandon, delighted by how it seemed to attract everybody's attention.

"I appreciate it, Mister Billy," Riker said with an air of mock formality. "Thank you for calling this meeting to order for me."

"Da! Da!" Billy cried. A grin appeared in the depths of his chubby cheeks to hear his father speak his name. Crusher angled her chair to the side as he lifted his arms high for another assault on the table.

"As you all know, we're pretty desperate here," Riker said, pacing back towards the group. "Anything. I'm willing to consider anything. Geordi-what about that heavy graviton beam you mentioned?"

From the middle of the long table, Laforge cleared his throat. "I've gone over it four times now," he said. "The local field distortion just wouldn't be strong enough to incapacitate them."

Blowing out a disappointed breath, Riker turned to the rest of his officers. "Anybody else?"

"Dr. Crusher and I have been working on an interesting premise," Data offered. Riker straightened eagerly.

"What is it?"

As he shifted his attention to the doctor, he saw Billy mouthing on her arm like a hungry puppy going at a bone. "We were thinking of something along the lines of a virus," she said, watching resignedly as a glob of drool dripped onto her lap. "Their species run on nanites, so what if we introduced a destructive breed of nanites? It might act like a plague. Wipe them out."

Though Riker's face remained steely, he planted his feet and leaned heavily over the back of an empty chair. What would a virus like that do to his wife? Would it be painful? Would he even be able to go through with it? He _did_ say that he'd consider anything…

"The only thing is," Crusher continued, "it would take two to three weeks to execute something like that."

"And we only have four hours," Riker muttered. He glanced from face to face. The view from the head of the table unsettled him. He should be sitting among them, listening to one of Picard's moving speeches. Not looking around a half-empty table, trying to find a way to defeat their beloved captain. How were they supposed to fight all of his knowledge and experience? A flare of anger, like a burst of flames, burned in Riker's belly to think of how their enemy had used a man like that against them. He could only hope that Picard was buried too deep to know. If not, the implications would be unimaginable.

Then, out of the flames, an idea came thundering into existence.

"What if it goes both ways?" Riker asked, snapping to attention suddenly.

Crusher stared at him with a quizzical tilt of her head. "What do you mean?"

"The Borg-they've used Picard against us, right? What if we can use one of their own against them?" Another question was forming on Crusher's tongue, but Riker continued in a determined hurry. "I'm saying that if the Borg know everything about the host, then the host might know everything about the Borg."

"That still does not help us," Worf snorted. "Clearly, Picard is not willing-"

"Not Picard." Riker's gaze fell to his infant son. Billy pulled away from Crusher's arm, beaming up at him. "Deanna," he said. "What if we can use Deanna?"

A tinge of guilt flashed behind the doctor's eyes. "Carmen...she said something like that. She wanted to speak with Deanna, see if she could learn something that might help us. I thought it was too dangerous; you know what it was like, before we gave her that neural inhibitor."

Hope, frail but flowering, began to blossom somewhere in that empty space of his heart. "But maybe _I_ can do it. I don't have any Betazoid blood-it doesn't affect me the same."

"I don't know, Will. We need you right now. If this incapacitates you-"

"Take her out of sedation, Beverly," he ordered. "I have to try."


	27. Making Contact

The laboratory was much quieter than sickbay, with only one patient and none of the bustling staff weaving back and forth. But there could have been an entire band playing _Livery Stable Blues_ on top of Crusher's desk and Riker wouldn't have noticed. He stood beside the solitary patient, a silent war on hope waging in his head.

Troi looked like one of them now. Her hair had fallen out, leaving her scalp the same sickly, ashen gray as the rest of her face. Her cheeks and eyes had the sunken quality of a corpse. The nanites had begun to form a web of implants over her skull.

"Sedation hasn't slowed the assimilation process," Crusher said. "But from what we've seen with other drones, I presume they make more drastic modifications aboard their ship."

Riker felt a shudder travel from deep down to the surface of his skin. At least his wife was here, in Crusher's laboratory, and not on some cold surgical slab somewhere in the Borg cube. But how far was her mind?

"Let's give this a try," he said, taking a deep breath to keep his chest from tightening.

Crusher nodded solemnly. She reached down, touching a hypospray to the side of Troi's neck. The device hissed, and for a few anxious moments, no one so much as breathed.

Then her eyes opened. They circled the room while the rest of her face remained perfectly still. Riker leaned over her. "Imzadi?" he whispered.

She sat up with a jerk, startling Worf into drawing his phaser. Riker held up his hand. "Don't," he ordered. "Just...give her a chance."

At the sound of his voice, Troi's head swivelled towards her husband. Her eyes seemed to go right through him, though. They looked like two dark holes, devoid of the warmth and compassion that used to fill those depths.

"Imzadi…" she said. Riker's heart skipped like one of the smooth stones he used to throw with Carmen.

"I'm here, Deanna. I'm here," he said, choking on something halfway between a sob and a laugh. He reached out to caress the side of her face, but her hand shot up and grabbed his wrist.

"Sir-!" Worf lifted his phaser, trembling with restraint. Crusher sucked in a breath.

"Riker. William. Imzadi."

His hopes came tumbling down. She was just reciting information. Storing it in her newly mechanical brain. Her hand loosened and she swung herself to the edge of the bed.

"Crusher. Beverly. Doctor."

"Yes, Deanna. We're here to help you," Crusher said.

Troi ignored her, stepping down from the bed to explore her surroundings. Riker stayed within a guarded distance as she moved about the room, trying to process lists of information displayed on various screens.

"Imzadi," he pressed. "Listen to me. We're running out of time." He felt for her along the edges of his thoughts, where she had always been, but found a gulf spanning the distance between their minds instead. _I'm here, Deanna,_ he called out._ I'm right here. I haven't given up on you. _

She paused in front of one of the screens. Her entire body went rigid. Crusher cast him a questioning, hopeful glance. "Did you do it?" she breathed.

"I...I'm not sure." Riker inched closer. _Come back to me, imzadi. Please. We can't do this without you. _

Troi stepped away from the screen. She turned her shoulders to face him. "Earth will soon be assimilated," she said in a flat monotone. "You will all be assimilated. Resistance is futile."

Worf snarled at the worn out phrase. He moved himself between Riker and the counselor, hand on his weapon. "This is no use. She is one of them, like Picard. We are wasting time."

A screech pierced the air suddenly, coming from the other side of the closed laboratory door. "It's Billy," Crusher said quickly. "He must be able to sense her. I'll have Kerry move him out of sickbay."

"No," Riker said, stopping her short. He thought he had seen a brief flash of something when they first heard the cry, but couldn't be sure. "Open the door. Let her see him."

Crusher hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea, Will. What if he's sensitive, like Carmen? He could-"

Something flashed across the gulf again. This time, Riker was sure of it. "Open the door!" he bellowed.

Worf strode to the door, slamming his palm against the panel. Kerry stood behind it, trying her best to contain a whimpering and wriggling Billy.

"What do you want me to do?" she shouted. Billy's whimpers turned to sharp, indignant cries. He reached for his mother, leaning so far forward that he nearly fell out of Kerry's arms.

Troi stepped towards him, then stopped abruptly as though snapping back on a tether. "Riker...Billy…" she said, trying to process the sight of the infant. "...cowboy." The last word came out differently. Softer, somehow. Riker's heart thumped against his chest.

"Yes, that's it," he urged. "He needs you, Deanna. Look at him-he needs his mother to come back." Shutting his eyes, Riker drew himself up to the edge of that vast space separating them and waited for her to appear. But his concentration was broken by a curt warning growl from Worf. Opening his eyes again, he saw that Troi had lifted one hand. She held it out in front of her, fingers outstretched.

"Be careful, sir," Worf cautioned. He gripped his phaser, readying his muscles to spring into action at a moment's notice.

"It's alright," Riker said, reaching his hand out in return. "I think it's her. I think it's Deanna." Slowly, he laced his fingers through hers. She stared straight ahead, unmoving, as he pulled himself closer and took her other hand.

_We stood like this at the altar. Remember? I held your hands just like this when we became husband and wife. _

He summoned the image from his memory, and for a moment, he saw everything just the way it was. The chapel on that sweltering summer day. The mountains in the distance. The dress that curved gracefully over her hips.

In the laboratory, Troi's fingers twitched, still interlaced with his. Riker searched her unwavering gaze for any change, but her eyes looked just as dark and empty as that space between their minds. _I'm close, aren't I? Come on, Deanna. Find me. _

He pressed on, sifting through the memories. Picard's heartfelt speech. Carmen fumbling to make a speech of her own. Dancing with their shipmates under the bright Alaskan moon. Troi's hands pulling at his belt as he drove them to their private cabin. The heavenly havoc that followed. The way they could only beam at one another come morning, in awe of what they had just done.

Her fingers twitched again. This time, they closed around his. And this time, when he searched her gaze, he found a single tear seeping from the corner of her eye.

Behind them, Billy's cries quieted. He looked up at Kerry and then back at his mother, making a soft, pleading whimper. "Doctor Crusher?" she called out, at a loss for what to do.

"It's alright, Kerry." The doctor smiled, several tears coming to her own eyes. "Bring him here. It's safe now."

The young woman carried him inside, relieved to pass him off to somebody else. "Shh...shh…" Crusher crooned to him softly, scooping him into her arms. With a gulping sigh, he buried his face into her uniform. It wasn't his mother's uniform, but he was tired and willing to settle.

Riker brought one of Troi's hands to his lips and kissed it softly. _Tell me I haven't lost you forever. Tell me I can still get you back. _

Her answer came faint and fading. _I can feel their grip on me, even now. I can barely…barely feel you... _

_I'll stop them, imzadi-I just need to know how. What do I do? _

_The signals. The root commands. _

An image wavered before his eyes, dim and unfocused._ I can't...what are you trying to show me?_

_It's what makes us act. Or not act. _

_What root commands? What signals? Deanna, I don't understand…_

_Sleep...tell Data...to sleep..._

Troi's hand slipped from his cheek, returning to her side. Riker's chest heaved as he felt her slip away, too. _Deanna-no! Wait! What do we do? Deanna!_

One final thing came drifting across the distance, the same image she had tried to send before. Riker's eyes flew open. "That's it…"

Billy fussed, sensing his father's urgency. "Will?" Crusher implored. "What is it? What happened?"

"We need Data," he said, watching Troi as she resumed her study of the screens. His heart ached for her, still full of those private, precious memories._ Just a little longer, imzadi. Hang in there._

"Data? Why do we need Data?"

Riker turned his attention to the doctor. "They are both, Beverly. The Borg-they are people _and_ machines. That's the answer to Carmen's question. And that's the answer that will get us out of this mess."

"But I don't see-"

"I'll explain in a minute." His hand went to his communicator, but before he could send for Data, the android paged him first._ "Bridge to Riker. The Borg ship has altered course, sir."_

Riker froze, overcome with a sudden and sinking feeling of dread. "Altered course?"

"_They are headed straight for us, sir. Time to intercept is nineteen minutes."_

Crusher flashed him a hollow smile, shifting Billy from one arm to the other. "Looks like we got their attention."


	28. A Chess Match

_Riker whistled merrily as he waited at the end of the hall for the turbolift doors to open. Data waited beside him. He observed the commander with a curious tilt of his head. "You appear to be in an excessively good mood, sir," he noted. "Is it because of our impending mission to Drammen IV?"_

"_It sure is," Riker grinned. "Barely gets any better than a business meeting on the beach. You've heard of Drammen's beaches, right?"_

"_I have not, sir."_

"_Well you're in for a treat. They've got beaches, waterfalls, hiking trails...you name it."_

"_Name what, sir?"_

_Riker chuckled. "Forget it. Anyway, I haven't taken shore leave since the honeymoon, and seeing how we'll be docked there overnight, I thought-"_

"_YOU!" _

_Riker spun around to find Carmen blustering towards them. She stabbed an accusatory finger at his chest, eyes ablaze like two blue flames. "How could you?!" she roared._

"_What are you talking about?" He pretended to be shocked, even offended, despite the fact that he knew exactly what she was talking about._

"_Why did you assign Allan to stay and run the circuitry diagnostic? We had plans for Drammen IV!"_

"_How was I supposed to know you had plans?" _

"_You knew! And I know that you knew! You just don't like it, am I right?"_

_Riker moved her finger away from his chest as though it were a loaded gun. "Look, I just think that...well, I think you've been spending a lot of time together lately. I mean you're still young and-"_

_She interrupted him with a contemptuous snort. "Nana said you and mom used to sneak out of the house at night! And you're lecturing ME about my dating life?"_

"_We aren't talking about me, we're talking about you!" He drew himself up to full height, towering over the young woman even as she refused to be daunted. "And anyway, as commander of the Enterprise, I reserve the right to assign any officer I deem fit. You should take it as a compliment-I'm entrusting Allan with a very important task here."_

_Her blue eyes still smoldering, Carmen glared up at him intently. "Find someone else to run the diagnostic, or-or-I'll never forgive you!" _

_She was overstating it, of course, as she often did when her temper boiled over. But with Troi in the midst of her pregnancy, his wife was becoming increasingly unpredictable. Even downright hostile. He needed Carmen in his corner now more than ever if he wanted to live to meet his son._

"_Okay how about this," Riker said, tucking one arm under the other. "I'll make you a little wager."_

_Her glare softened to begrudging curiosity. "What kind of wager?"_

"_A match," he answered. "I challenge you to a match of tridimensional chess. If I win, Allan has to stay and run the circuitry diagnostic."_

"_And if __I win?"_

_Riker laughed at the notion. "If you win, then I'll stay and perform the diagnostic myself. __**If **__you win."_

_Hesitating only a moment, Carmen thrust her hand out to shake on it. "Deal."_

_The turbolift doors opened just then and two ensigns came out, greeting the commander by way of a small nod. "Meet me in Ten Forward in two hours," he said, striding into the lift as if he had already won._

"_I recommend bringing a book!" she shouted after him._

"_A book?"_

"_For the diagnostic. Those tests take hours, you know."_

_The doors closed before he could tell her what he thought of her suggestion, which gave Carmen a fair amount of satisfaction. As she turned to walk away, she noticed that Data had not moved to follow the commander. _

"_Data? Weren't you supposed to get on the lift?"_

"_Hmm? Oh, yes. I can take the next one. May I ask you a question, Ensign Riker?"_

_"Sure, I guess."_

"_How many times have you defeated the commander at tridimensional chess?"_

"_Well, uh…" She cleared her throat, her ego rapidly deflating. "...none."_

"_Why then, did you accept the terms of his deal?"_

_Her cheeks grew warm as she shifted defensively on her feet. "Because...I guess because losing is better than quitting."_

"_Why is that?"_

"_Because if I try, at least there's a chance."_

"_But prior evidence would suggest that the chances of you beating the commander in this encounter are zero percent."_

"_Says you," she retorted._

"_Yes...I did say that."_

_Carmen couldn't help but make a small grin. The android's curiosity, benevolent and almost child-like, often had a way of curbing the young woman's temper. "I mean, some of us would rather go down fighting, that's all," she explained. "Even if defeat seems inevitable. Humans can be stubborn like that."_

"_I see." A spark of comprehension lit somewhere behind his pale gold eyes. "Yes, I have witnessed your father prove that on multiple occasions."_

_Normally, Carmen would have been flattered by the comparison. But at the moment, it only stoked her fury back to life. "Speaking of my dad," she spat. "I better go tell Allan to stop packing. See you later, Data."_

_The android's expression seemed to cloud over with something that, if she didn't know any better, could have been described as sympathetic. He held up a hand as she turned to leave. _

"_If I may make a suggestion?" he offered. "I think I might be able to help."_

* * *

_An eager crowd had gathered in the back of Ten Forward. As Riker picked up one of his playing pieces, a bated silence pressed in from all around. "I was going to tell you," he said, reaching over to replace one of Carmen's hapless pawns with his rook, "that I don't enjoy having to publicly destroy my own daughter. But that would be a lie. I'm enjoying this immensely."_

_Carmen shrugged, moving another one of her pawns forward with an apparent lack of concern. "Enjoy it while you can. Because you won't be enjoying the beach later." _

_A speculative murmur made its way through the crowd. Sheppard, standing at Carmen's side, wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. While he appreciated her efforts (and had been looking forward to a romantic night on the beach), he also feared retribution from the commander. And so he found himself unsure of which outcome to hope for._

_Back and forth, again and again, Carmen and Riker made their moves. As the minutes stretched into an hour, and then even longer, the crowd began to thin. Some people had to return to work. Others merely lost interest. Then Troi appeared, her rounded belly nearly toppling someone's drink as she squeezed past a table to join the remaining spectators. _

_She took her place beside the commander, absent-mindedly resting her hand on his shoulder. He was too deep in contemplation to notice. Something had been bothering him, and he realized now that it was Carmen's lack of profanity. Never before had she been so calm during a match. Her face had remained flat, almost neutral, with a small but growing sense of smugness. _

_It struck him suddenly, what she was doing. But by then it was too late. His eyes whipped up to find her watching him, waiting for the realization to take hold. "You planned this all along, didn't you?" he growled. _

_A smile leapt forth, the smile she had been holding back for the last eight moves. Sheppard tugged at his sweat-soaked collar. "Wh-what happened? Who won?"_

"_Nobody." Carmen twirled one of her pieces beneath her fingertips. "It's a stalemate. A draw. And yes, it was my plan all along."_

"_What do you mean?" Sheppard asked, withering beneath the commander's scowl._

"_All I had to do was change my focus from trying to win, to trying not to lose."_

"_Isn't that the same thing?"_

"_Not at all. Data gave me the idea, actually. Remember when Sirna Kolrami was onboard for those war exercises? And he challenged Data to a game of Strategema?"_

"_I couldn't stand that man," Troi muttered under her breath. _

"_Data told me the the only way that he could keep Kolrami from winning was if he stopped trying to win himself. A stalemate. Sometimes, that's the only option to stay in the game." She rose from the table with a leisurely stretch and then draped one arm around Sheppard's waist. "Anyway, we've got to finish packing. Thanks for the game, dad." _

"_Hold it right there."_

_Carmen froze. Her arm fell back down to her side. "What do you mean? A deal is a deal!"_

"_That's right," he conceded. "And the deal was for Allan to stay and do the diagnostic if I won."_

"_But you __**didn't**__ win, so Allan is going to Drammen IV with me. Now if you'll excuse us, we have to-"_

"_Yes, Allan can go." Riker leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together with a supreme air of satisfaction. "But you can't."_

_Carmen's jaw fell slack. Her eyes glazed over, horrified as she realized what she had done. Sheppard, who had already reached the same conclusion, began immediately to try and placate her. "Now Carmen, just stay calm-"_

"_See, the other part of our deal was that if __**you**__ won, then I would stay and do the diagnostic myself," Riker continued. "And seeing as you didn't win either, then as commander of the Enterprise, I reserve the right to assign any officer I deem fit."_

"_But this isn't-you can't-MOM!"_

_Troi threw her hands up in a helpless gesture. "Don't look at me," she protested. "You knew the risk of making a deal with your father." _

"_Oh and by the way," he added, clapping a hand over her shoulder and using it to hoist himself out of his chair. "I recommend bringing a book. Those tests take hours, you know."_

* * *

Riker sat at the helm, his shoulder slumped to one side of the chair as he stared straight ahead. He was still thinking about the chess game, musing alone, refusing to acknowledge a fear of failure that stirred in the silence. There was no time for that. He had to stay in the game.

"Sir, I will only ask you one more time-"

"I need to speak with him!"

An argument behind him snapped Riker out of his thoughts. He twisted in his chair to see Worf holding his father back from coming any further onto the bridge. "Dad?"

"Will! Please-I just want to help! What's the plan?"

Riker rose to his feet, his anger rising just as fast. "How many times do I have to tell you-"

"_Crusher to bridge. Data has confirmed the second neural connection."_

The weight of the ship pressed down on Riker's shoulders, making him forget all about his father for a moment. He pictured his wife in the examination chamber, where he had left her. Data had connected himself to her cybernetic implants through a series of wires, attempting to create a pathway to the Collective. Riker hoped that, just as he had reached her Betazoid mind, Data could reach the part of her that belonged to the Borg.

Worf waited for an order, one arm still barring Kyle from descending the bridge. Riker gave him a slow, begrudging nod and then reached for his combadge. "Does Data have access to the subspace signals yet?"

"_No, not yet. He's proceeding with the final neural connection. Hopefully we'll have some good news soon."_

"What kind of good news?" Kyle asked, squeezing past the Klingon as soon as he lowered his arm.

"We're attempting to infiltrate their signals." Riker sighed and leaned back to resume his pensive slouch. "It's how the Borg communicate."

"And you're going to communicate a little message of your own?"

"That's the idea."

Kyle grunted, a sound of mixed approval and apprehension. "Do we have enough time for something like that?"

A gasp cut across the bridge. Ensign Carrerro followed it with a small, sharp cry. "There, sir! They're here!"

Riker rose slowly to his feet. The shadow of a ship loomed before them, blotting out the stars on the viewscreen. "Looks like I'm going to have to buy us some time," he said without removing his eyes from the monstrosity. "Mister Worf-open a channel."

Worf hailed the enemy, all while every second clawed away at Riker's nerves. But to his relief-and revulsion-the drone called Locutus soon appeared on the screen. "You may speak," his former captain said. "But your attempts to intervene will not be tolerated." Cold, red light from his ocular implant gleamed in the darkness of his alien surroundings.

Riker straightened his uniform and pushed a hand through his hair. His lackadaisical demeanor would have warranted anger from an enemy capable of such a thing. "Come now, Locutus. We were simply curious about your kind."

"Curiosity is irrelevant."

"We have seen for ourselves, how superior you truly are. We, too, would like to be superior. To be...improved." Riker smiled at him, his poker face nearly perfect.

"Unlikely." Locutus remained steadfast. "It is more likely this is an attempt at diversion. It will not work."

"Diversion? And I thought you retained all of Picard's knowledge. Surely you know that I have never lied to him. Surely you know that he implicitly trusts me."

There was a strange pause from the drone. His eyes tracked back and forth as though scrolling through information. "Yes…" he replied at length. "The human, Picard, trusts you implicitly."

"Good." Riker's grin grew a little wider. "Then give us time to prepare for assimilation. Ten minutes."

"No time. You will be assimilated immediately."

"We are a sentimental race," he argued, keeping a surge of desperation from reaching his voice. "You know that, too. All we ask for is ten minutes."

Another pause. For a moment, Riker believed he had actually done it. A preemptive hope swelled in his chest like a balloon.

"What are you doing? How do you have access to our root commands?"

The balloon popped. Riker's hopes shattered to the floor.

"You will no longer prepare for assimilation." Locutus tilted his head back, and that red light came glaring through the screen. "Now, you will prepare for annihilation."

His image vanished, the transmission cut. A deep hum generated from within the cube, and Riker felt it rumble in his feet.

"Sir, sensors are picking up an increase of power to the Borg ship."

"Shields up! Rotate frequencies!" he bellowed. "Then fire all weapons; I want you to give them everything we've got!"

Kyle grabbed him by the shoulders. "Damnit, son, have you gone mad? We can't win another fight against them!"

Riker jerked himself free, a flash of anger passing over his face. "I'm not trying to win-I'm trying not to lose." As the first round of enemy fire rocked the Enterprise, Riker reached once more for his combadge. "Any day now would be good, Data!"

"Shields have failed, sir," Worf called. "Hull breach imminent."

"Data, report!"

But the android did not answer. Riker saw glimpses of his family as the floor continued to buck and heave. He heard Billy's shrieks of laughter as he bounced him on his knee. He saw Carmen show up at his door, trombone in hand. He felt Troi lean against him as they washed dishes together.

"DATA!" Riker shouted. The ship shuddered and groaned all around him.

"_Stand by, sir."_

"I can't stand by any longer!"

"Will…" Kyle grabbed his shoulders again, with a different kind of earnestness this time. Another shockwave hit the Enterprise, and as Riker started to reel, Kyle pulled him into his arms.

Then everything stopped. The bridge grew silent and still, save for the red alert that continued to flash around a dumbfounded crew. "What...what happened?" Kyle asked, still holding onto his son.

A grin took shape on Riker's face, crooked and triumphant. With his father's help, he pulled himself upright. "A stalemate. It's a draw." He turned his attention to the Klingon. "Status of the Borg ship, Mister Worf?"

"Minimal power readings. Electromagnetic shield is...nonexistent."

Two ensigns behind him erupted in a cheer. Riker bent over his knees, the reaction setting in. He still felt the brush of failure against his fingertips. It had come close. Too close. "Get a team together, Worf. I want you to beam over to that ship and bring our captain home."

"Gladly, sir."

The Klingon's face folded into a smile. He waved one of the ensigns towards him, and together they exited the bridge. Kyle patted him on the back, his knees still shaking with the same overwhelming sense of relief.

"Congratulations, son. You did what forty ships failed to do. Now we just have to wait for Carmen's signal."

Riker's jaw drew taut at the reminder of his daughter's plight. "Wait-what signal?"

"You didn't think I'd let her go empty-handed, did you?" Kyle huffed out a wry laugh. "I gave her an emergency beacon before she left."

"And you think Leyton would let her keep an emergency beacon?"

"Yes. We're a sentimental race, remember?" A cryptic smile lingered on Kyle's face. He settled down into a chair, groaning with the effort. "She was worried that you'd be mad. I told her maybe you guys could find another one someday."

"What are you talking about?"

"That piece of gold you gave her-we used that to disguise the beacon. She'll send out a signal as soon as she gets the chance."

For a moment, Riker let himself take comfort in the thought. But his worry loomed large as the enemy ship still hovering within view. "And what if she doesn't?"

"Doesn't what?"

"Get the chance."

The sharp lines of age softened across Kyle's face. "Then she'll make up her own chances," he said. "Come on, Will. If she's anything like her old man, she'll be just fine."

Riker smiled a little at that, then eased himself into the chair beside his father. Nothing else was said for awhile, but something new and comfortable hung in the silence between them. It made the commander's heart ache in a strangely bittersweet way.

"_No activity aboard the Borg ship,"_ Worf reported after a time._ "The drones appear to be completely dormant."_

"Any idea of how long we can keep them like this?" Riker asked.

"_No, sir. I will need to perform a more thorough scan-" _Worf paused abruptly. Kyle and Riker both leaned forward in their chairs.

"Worf?"

"_We have located him, sir! We have located the captain! Stand by."_

Another wave of relief washed over the bridge. But in mere moments, all trace of it was gone. As an alarm blared from Carrerro's console, the ensign cried out a warning. "Sir! Another ship is approaching!"

Riker scrambled to his feet, cursing under his breath. A shadowy silhouette, small and bird-like, swooped in behind the cube. "What the hell…?"

"It's him." He heard his father's voice at his side. "It's Leyton. The weapon is finished."

A green beam of light shot out from the unfamiliar vessel, cutting right to the core of the Borg ship. Riker's heart leapt into his throat. "O'Brien!" he cried, barely enough breath left in his lungs._ "Get our people out of there!"_

Pieces of the Borg ship burned away at the green light's touch. It crumpled inward on itself like a dying star. Then an enormous burst of white scalded Riker's vision. He threw his arms up, shielding his eyes though he was already blinded.

He heard his father shout, but as he reached out for him, the floor pitched and Riker went crashing into the wall. Sparks flew from consoles. Smoke filled the air. Pieces of wreckage sailed into the Enterprise with screeching and scraping and the sound of tearing metal. A terrified cry resounded through Riker's mind. _"Imzadi!"_

Then everything around him went dark.


	29. Rebuilding

**Okay first of all, I'm SO sorry this took forever to get out! And secondly, thank you for all the kind and witty reviews. They have been especially encouraging lately as I am fighting through a rough patch of the dreaded Impostor Syndrome. I've started sparring again in my jiu jitsu classes, and it's very disheartening to realize just how rusty I am after months of being out for my injury. It seems to be affecting my confidence overall. Special shout-out to JWood201, MonkaMoo, Zara08, and JLeto-you guys are amazing and I don't deserve you! Okay enough of my pity party, here's the next chapter :-)**

* * *

Riker stared at the darkened debris scattered far and wide across the heavens, at the chunks of metal twisting, floating, and drifting by. His fists clenched with rage. The other ship was long gone by now, and Leyton was no doubt gloating his victory in front of the council. All while Riker found himself helplessly on the sidelines once again.

"How could they do that? How could they just leave us for dead?" the commander seethed.

"I don't think Leyton cared about collateral damage," Kyle said, nursing the elbow that had taken the brunt of his fall. "At least that chief of yours knows what he's doing. A lesser man wouldn't have been able to save the away team."

"I'm not so sure we saved Picard. We might have brought him back, but a sudden separation like that…" Riker grated his teeth together. "I still can't feel her-I can't feel Deanna. Who knows if they'll wake up from this."

A crackle of electricity came from above, where Carrerro and one of the science officers had been trying to revive the turbolift. They leapt back as a white arc shot out from the open panel. "How much longer, Carrero?" Riker snapped.

"I'm sorry sir," he hastily apologized. "I thought we had it. We'll keep trying."

With an impatient gust of breath, Riker ran both of his hands through his hair. "I'm sick of waiting. I'm sick of the ship not working. I'm sick of being stuck on this bridge while my family-while my family-" His frustration swelled, boiling up into his chest. He kicked an errant piece of debris, and as it sailed away, it revealed something small and strikingly blue next to his foot. His fists uncurled. His anger fell to the floor. With sudden gentleness, Riker stooped to pick up a little blue rock. "While my family needs me," he said, finishing his sentence in a coarse whisper. Earth may have been safe from the Borg's clutches, but his own world was still slipping away.

Coming around to his side, Kyle gave him a nudge. "What's with the rocks, anyway?"

"She uh, she grew up on a ship. They're kind of exotic I guess, to someone who's never lived on a planet." A faint, involuntary smile passed over Riker's lips. "She found this one while she was staying with Deanna's mother on Betazed. When we came to pick her up, I barely recognized her. She was on the beach with a bunch of kids, just running and laughing and...being a kid. They had taught her how to fly this kite-" He shook his head and the smile disappeared. "You know she was trained to use thirteen different weapons, but couldn't fly a damn kite? What was I thinking, letting her wear another uniform..."

"I know the feeling. You remember how unhappy I was when _you_ joined Starfleet?"

Riker's eyes narrowed. He closed his fingers tightly around the rock. "You didn't want me to join because you couldn't stand the fact that I was making something of myself! You were jealous of me, weren't you? Jealous of my success and-"

"Yes, I was jealous! But not of your success. You were just a baby when Betty died-I knew that you'd forget her. But_ I_ could never forget her. I would have been a better person, a better father, if she hadn't died. Grief...it changes people." His chest heaved with a broken breath. The words had come out of his mouth more quickly, more freely, than he had expected. As he placed a heavy hand on the commander's shoulder, the tears began to catch up. "But listen to me. You must have held on to some kind of strength that I lost, son. Because I know that whatever happens, you're strong enough to keep this grief from changing you...into me. "

Riker could feel his resentment eroding into pity. He saw genuine pain behind his father's eyes, and even though it must have been there for years, Riker realized he was seeing it for the very first time. "So that's why you told her to go after Leyton?" he rasped, making one last effort to cling to his anger. "Because you think I'm strong enough to lose her?"

"You're not going to lose her. She-"

"Leyton got what he wanted! And this ship won't be in any condition to go after her for days, maybe even weeks. She doesn't have that much time!" He sank into the captain's chair, staring mournfully at the rock in his hand. "Maybe I should have left her there on Betazed. I don't care if she would have resented me-at least she would have been safe."

"You think she did this for some uniform? For some obligation to Starfleet?" Kyle scoffed. Riker lifted his head just enough to throw him a glare. "Look I barely knew the girl, but I know that she didn't do this because of some over-developed sense of duty. She did this because she had something worth fighting for." He held Riker's glare for a moment, then, as his gaze softened, held out a hand. "You've still got something worth fighting for, too. Don't you throw away that strength."

Riker stared at his father's hand, which seemed to reach across a rift far more vast than the distance between them. Something broke gently in his chest, and the pieces of an old and hardened grudge fell away. Beneath it, he found something long buried and almost forgotten-a little boy's yearning for his father's approval.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "How am I going to fix all of this?"

Kyle smiled, a sincere warmth spreading across his face. "You can start by standing up."

With a small and wry grin, Riker took his father's hand. As Kyle pulled him to his feet, they heard the turbolift whirring to life. They both turned to see Carrerro backing away from the panel slowly.

"Um, sir?"

"What is it? Did you fix it?"

"No, sir. I think someone else did."

Filled with cautious curiosity, Riker and his father ascended the bridge together. Carrerro, along with the other ensign, inched farther away from the doors and to the safety of their commander's company.

The doors swished open. A single passenger stood inside, blinking back at them in surprise. "Oh hello, sirs," he said, a smile darting quickly across his face. "I was just-I thought I would-well, when I saw that the lifts were inoperable-"

"Allan!" Kyle cried, shouldering past the others to join him in the turbolift. "Allan, you're a lifesaver! Glad_ someone_ around here knows how to get things done." He patted the young man on the back with such vigor that he knocked the wind from Sheppard's lungs. "Now hurry, we have to get to sickbay. Are you coming or not, Will?"

* * *

"Jean Luc. Jean Luc, can you hear me?"

Crusher's hand trembled as she touched the captain's face. Worf stood across from her, tentatively holding the youngest member of the Riker family out in front of him. Billy stared at the ridges along his nose and forehead with absorbed fascination. Worf pretended not to notice, for even though Carmen had once told him that it should be a matter of pride, the baby's intrigue always made him feel strangely uncomfortable.

"Anything of note, doctor?" he asked, a touch impatient, and Billy made a soft _oooh_ sound as the Klingon's voice rumbled across the lab.

"The tissue around his implants is returning to normal at a much slower rate than Deanna's," she said. "Then again, his assimilation was much more progressed." She moved to the second bio bed, where Troi lay stretched out and unconscious. A faint blush spread slowly across her skin, coloring her slightly parted lips that made her look as though she were about to speak.

Billy shrieked suddenly, causing Worf to nearly drop him in surprise. He glanced at the doctor sheepishly, adjusting his grip under the baby's armpits. "Translation?"

"Mama! Mama!" Billy sang, smacking the Klingon's arms with another celebratory shriek.

"I am not your mother," he growled.

"Worf, look!" Crusher leaned over the woman, holding her breath. Troi's eyelids began to flutter. A hoarse sound drifted up from her throat.

"_Cowboy?" _she rasped.

With a small laugh, Crusher set her hand over the top of Troi's. "Yes, your cowboy is here. Welcome back, Deanna. We've missed you."

Her eyes opened, searching the bleary shape above. "And...Beverly?"

"I'm here, too." She gave the counselor's hand a squeeze. "How do you feel? Does anything hurt?"

"I don't...I don't think so." With the doctor's help, she sat up slowly.

"Take it easy, Deanna. I'm not sure how long it will take for your body to restore its own control." As she picked up one of the pillows and propped it at the base of Troi's back, a rally of shouts tore her attention to sickbay.

"_Watch out! Move out of my way!"_ someone yelled, followed by a startled cry and a cascade of objects clattering to the ground. After a flurry of movement-the shuffling of feet and people moving quickly out of the way-the doors burst open and Commander Riker came hurtling into the room.

"WILL!" Troi climbed down from the bed, clinging to its edge. She tried to run towards him, but her legs were not strong enough and she slumped back to the ground. Galvanized by her cry, he closed the distance in a single bound and swept her up into his arms. With hushed murmurs of joy and relief, he held her tightly against him. Every now and then he'd pull away to look at her face, then clasp her to his chest once more. She clutched him in return, shaking with a flood of emotions that washed over her weary mind.

Worf fumbled to keep a hold of Billy, who bounced and screeched with joy. Riker waved him over and Worf gladly deposited him between the two. While Troi cradled the baby against her chest, Riker's arms encircled them both.

Sheppard hung back a respectful distance, watching the reunion with a lump in his throat. Kyle squeezed his arm, a silent proffer of strength. Though it was a touching scene, there was still something glaringly missing, and he knew how it stung the young man in particular.

Troi, too, began to sense it. She looked up, searching the room expectantly. Her tearful smile faded. "Where...where is…?"

The sharp end of her question prodded Riker's mind. "Carmen is...not here," he answered.

Sheppard's face tightened as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He turned away, twisting free from Kyle's grasp, and retreated into sickbay alone. Riker thought he caught a look of mute accusation just before the young man left.

"Where is she, Will? What happened to her?" The breath trembled in Troi's chest. She seemed so fragile beneath Riker's hands, a shadow of her former self. He worried that the truth might make her shatter.

Someone cleared their throat, and he saw Kyle crouching down to their level. "Your daughter is on a mission," he explained. "A mission that is...it's important to the future of the Federation right now."

"She's gone?"

"Yes, but we will get her back. I promise you both-we will get her back."

She crumpled into Riker's arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. He nodded at his father, a silent thank you in his eyes, and pulled her closer. Though he mourned for his wife, and for their missing daughter, and for the ship that still lay in ruins around them, a fierce determination took root in his mind. _Leyton won't know what hit him._

"Jean Luc!"

Crusher had been standing over the captain, a tricorder level with his temple, when his hand lifted on its own accord. She laced her fingers through his, bringing both their hands to her chest.

"Can you hear me, Jean Luc?"

"I'm...on the Enterprise?" he said groggily. A wave of relief washed over the doctor to hear his voice again, as ragged as it was.

"Yes. You're home now." She stifled a sob, embarrassed by the tears that began to seep through the cracks of her composure, and wiped her cheek against the shoulder of her jacket.

"Good to see you again, Captain Picard," Kyle hailed, casting a smile over Riker's head. With a groan of effort, Picard pulled himself upright. Crusher kept a hold of his hand, using it to steady his balance.

"What's this?" he grumbled, looking around at the destruction and disarray. The commander swallowed, about to answer, when Picard continued. "I leave my ship in the care of a couple of Rikers, and look what happens." A smile, soft and genuine, tugged on his lips despite the weariness that shuddered across his body.

Riker returned the smile with one just as genuine. "Sorry about that, sir. I suppose I'll have to make it up to you."

With another groan, Picard moved his legs over the edge of the bed. Crusher hovered worriedly, watching his every move. "You already have, Number One. You already have," he said. An immense sorrow crept into his smile. "I knew I could trust you."

The gut-wrenching implications of his remark dawned on the commander. "You...remember everything, don't you?"

Picard shuddered again, with all the frailty of an old man, and nodded gravely. "Yes."

A heavy silence descended on the room. Even Billy fell quiet, still nestled against his mother. Each had paid a price to be there, and Riker realized that the ship wasn't the only thing that would have to be rebuilt in the coming days.

He rubbed Troi's back, closing his eyes to meet her in that space along the edge of his thoughts. But his concentration, and the pensive silence, was soon broken by a page over his combadge.

"_Bridge to Riker!" _Something urgent underscored the ensign's voice, and it made the knots in Riker's stomach tighten.

"What is it?"

"_Ships! There must be at least a dozen, maybe more…"_

"What kind of ships? Carrerro, what the hell is going on?"

"_They are hailing us, sir. Would you like me to patch it through?"_

Troi lifted her head with a jerk. "Put it through," she whispered. "Please-put it through!" Riker hesitated, studying her with a bewildered brow pulled tight.

"_Sir?"_

"Yes, uh, put it through!"

A few moments of silence passed. Troi began to weep unabashedly, mumbling something between each sob as though she were speaking to somebody. Then a disembodied voice spoke over Riker's communicator.

"_This is T'argon of the IKS Kahlorn. We are bitterly disappointed to have missed the battle._ ("The Klingon fleet!" Kyle cried. "It's the Klingon fleet! They made it!") _May glory and honor come to those who died for this victory! May their descendants be bestowed with-"_

"_Who are you talking to? William, is that you?"_

A woman's eager voice cut the Klingon captain short. Riker felt Troi shake with laughter against his chest. From the bed, Picard let out a long-suffering sigh. "Oh, no…."

"_Tell Deanna I'll be right there! I'm coming, Little One! Hold on!"_

Kyle looked from face to face, utterly perplexed. "Who in the blazes was that?"

Standing stiffly, Riker tugged on the hem of his uniform. "That," he said, "would be my mother-in-law."


	30. Nightmares

A fog of exhaustion seeped into Carmen's mind. She straightened her back against the wall and, when a vigorous shake of her head did not clear the fog, gave her broken arm a squeeze. A jolt of pain sharpened her senses again. "Sleep, child." Alidar's voice drifted from the far end of the room. "I will not hurt you anymore. I am too tired."

"I want to be awake when my father gets here," she declared, squaring her jaw in a show of defiance. Alidar grunted, unimpressed.

"Your bravery is useless. Now get some rest."

A dim shaft of light from the windows fell across the corner of Alidar's cot. Shadows blanketed his face, but Carmen could feel a steady sense of sorrow that flowed from the Romulan and welled within her own chest. She wanted to blame him, to hate him even. But all she could see was a grieving father.

Toleel's face appeared through the fog in her mind. She saw him in his final moments, helpless and afraid. A prisoner and a victim. She may have been the one holding the weapon, but she was no different.

"I'm sorry," Carmen said softly. "I didn't want him to die."

She heard a burst of movement as Alidar turned away from her, his back forming a wall between them. "Your words are useless, too."

"I mean it. That's why when I found him in this universe, I did what I could to save him," she continued. "He was-"

"You did not save him-you sentenced him!" The river of sorrow dried up in a blaze of anger. "You delivered him right into Leyton's hands! How could you place so much trust in Starfleet, after all they have done to you?"

Carmen had no answer. She slumped against the wall, her head a muddle of conflicting emotions. She needed her mother's help to untangle them. Or her father's advice. Sheppard's comfort. Billy's company.

But she had none of these things. Not anymore. As she stared out the window, at the massive silhouette of the Warbird, the fog seeped out of her mind and filled up the room. It carried her away from that prison and to a different one.

She found herself walking on a metal gangway that stretched through the mist. _The Borg ship. I'm back on the Borg ship. But where is the rest of my team? _As Carmen looked around, a wall materialized beside the gangway. Rows upon rows of drones stood in stasis chambers, each one a silent prisoner of their own flesh.

One of the drones woke up. Its arm reached towards her pleadingly. "I tried to protect you…"

A strangled sound of horror escaped Carmen's lips. She recognized the anguished face of this drone. "Mama?" Her voice sounded small and child-like, not even strong enough to echo across the vast space.

Her mother's body was covered in cybernetic implants and armor, a bionic husk of the woman she used to be. Her hand closed, pointing at something behind the young woman. "The darkness...the darkness..."

Shadows wrapped around Carmen, binding her like ropes. She tried to cry out, but the darkness crawled into her mouth and silenced her screams. It sank into her lungs, into her chest, and pulled her to the floor.

But as the young woman fell, she landed on carpet instead of metal. To her bewilderment, she was back on the Enterprise.

"Dad!" she shouted, picking herself up. "Allan? Somebody!" She set off down the hall in a panicked stumble. Turn after turn, she found the corridors quiet and empty. The bridge, Ten Forward, sickbay-every corner of the ship appeared to have been deserted. Her heart pounded loud as her feet. She raced from deck to deck, calling the names of every person she knew in a desperate search for life.

A baby's wail pierced the air. Carmen halted in her tracks, straining to listen. Up ahead, a man crossed from one end of the corridor to the other. "Wait! Please-wait!" she cried.

The man looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. Her blood turned to ice. It was Admiral Leyton, and the infant wailing from his arms was her baby brother.

"No," she gasped. "You can't-you can't have him!"

She flew down the hall in pursuit. The admiral turned, disappearing beneath one of the doorways. Carmen followed, but when she burst through the door, her feet sank into a muddy field. Lifting her hand against a sharp and bitter wind, she saw ships filling the tar-colored sky. The din of battle rang in her ears, energy blasts and visceral cries of the dying. A pile of bodies grew at her feet, and from the bottom, Carmen saw a child's arm lying limp in the mud. She crouched down into a ball, covering her ears and shaking her head. "Not again...not again…"

Silence.

Everything around her fell silent and still. Slowly, trembling with every breath, she peered over her knees.

A sea of apathetic faces surrounded her. It was the council, wearing formal attire and dull, dreary expressions. Councilwoman Larousse stepped forward. "How do you respond to these charges?" she asked.

Carmen stammered for an answer. "Wh-what charges?"

"You let Picard die in your universe. You let the enemy use him against us in ours."

"No, I-"

"You left your own mother in the hands of the Borg. You abandoned your father when he needed you most."

"You have it all wrong! I did this to save them!"

"To save them?" Though Larousse's face remained impassive as a stone wall, her eyes seemed to laugh at the young woman. "You cannot save them. You are alone now. Let that be your sentence-to survive again and again, while they die." Her arm swept towards the gallery, where Carmen saw the forlorn faces of other child soldiers. "There will be no reprieve, no easement of your solitude. You could find a thousand different universes, and you will always end up like this. Alone."

A guard moved forward, grabbing her arm. A searing hot pain shot up to her shoulder. "No!" she cried, pulling away. "No, _please!_"

"Don't move," someone urged. "I'm almost done."

The courtroom vanished. She was back on Leyton's base. Someone still held her arm, but it was not a guard. It was an adolescent Romulan boy. He wrapped a strip of cloth around her arm, trying to keep the bone in place.

"Were you having a bad dream?" he asked.

Carmen nodded, searching the room as though she might find something left behind by her nightmares. It was just as dark and empty. Alidar sat propped up on the bed, but she could tell by the rhythm of his breathing (and by the way the boy kept his voice low) that he had fallen asleep. "Ramhaj," she said. "The Klingons called it ramhaj. But my mom called it survivor's guilt. You're Toleel, aren't you?"

The boy nodded. "I recognize you, too. You're one of the humans who rescued me from Vakrona."

Pieces of Carmen's memory floated together. A hot jungle. A small village. A mysterious signal picked up by Starfleet. Picard had sent her there with Riker and Troi to uncover the source of the signal, and to avoid suspicion from the locals, they pretended to be a family. After the mission, when she kept calling them mom and dad, neither of them bothered to correct her.

"Yes, I remember," she said. "I'm sorry, Toleel. I didn't know that Leyton would bring you here."

His attempt to smile at her turned into a grimace. "I'm sorry, too. That man over there…" He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. "He says he is my father. He_ looks_ like my father. But he is no better than the Tal Shiar. Why did he do this to you?"

She followed his glance to avoid looking him in the eye. "Because I let you die."

The boy's face darkened. His hands slowed to a stop. "You mean...you're from...where _he's _from?"

"Yes. I was supposed to execute you over there." Slowly, Toleel withdrew his hands. She felt his mind retreat even further. "But I couldn't do it. You were just a kid, like me. I...couldn't do it."

"So what happened?"

"My commander." She winced, trying to keep the moment from replaying in her mind. "He did it anyway. He killed our captain, too. Humans can be...we can be monsters, sometimes."

Toleel nodded, and his mind eased back into a place of trust and understanding. His hands returned to her arm. "Then humans and Romulans are not that different." He cast another glance over his shoulder, this time with a whiff of disgust.

When his eyes returned to the young woman, he found a sad smile playing at her lips. "No, Toleel. He's not a monster."

As he finished wrapping her arm, he tied it down with a scowl. "How can you stand up for him? You've seen what he's capable of!"

"Hurt people hurt others," she said, then pursed her lips together apologetically. "Sorry, I sound like my mother. She's a counselor."

"But I'm hurt," Toleel insisted. "And I'm not hurting anyone."

"I'll bet you're hurting _him_."

The boy fell silent and sullen. He crawled over to the wall, sitting with his back against it. "He's not my father. I won't pretend that he is."

Carmen burst out laughing, a sound of surprised and sincere amusement. "_Baka_, you sound like me," she said, holding her arm in place to keep from jostling it with her laughter. "I wanted nothing to do with the commander when I first came here. I was hurt, too, you see. And I did all kinds of things to numb myself from that pain." Her smile sobered with a deep breath. "He's grieving, Toleel. His cruelty is a testament to how much he loved you. But he is not a cruel man. Just...a broken one."

Toleel folded and unfolded his hands across his knees. "Does it still hurt?" he asked after a few moments of solemn contemplation.

"Sometimes," Carmen admitted. "But you know what my nana said? She said that something you used to carry on your shoulders can one day fit in your pocket." With her fingers, she dug a small lump of gold from her uniform. "And a hole carved by sorrow can be filled with that much joy. It's true, you know. That's why his plan won't work. I'll never have nothing again."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy scoot a little closer. He reminded her of the other child soldiers, the ones who felt too ashamed to ask for comfort. They had a way of gravitating towards her, like the orbits of two lonesome planets drifting through space.

"Hey Toleel?"

"Yes?"

"Thank-you."

He dismissed her gratitude with a shrug. "I did what I could. I'm not medically trained, but-"

"No, not for this," she said, touching her broken arm. "You did one of the worst jobs I've ever seen. In fact, I think I'm going to have to reset the bone. Thank-you for listening, I mean." The smile she sent him drew one to his own face. "And don't worry about my arm-Dr. Crusher will fix it up once I'm back on the Enterprise."

"You think they will find us?"

She tucked the lump of gold into her uniform again. "I know they will."

"What makes you so sure?" Toleel's eyes drifted to the hulking Warbird outside the window. A faint shudder passed over him.

Se had only begun to answer when footsteps sounded down the hallway. Carmen's smile fled from her face. "Get behind me," she ordered, turning her body like a shield.

The doors opened. Four guards filed into the room, fanning out around the admiral, who walked in last. Carmen growled under her breath. Alidar startled awake, tensing immediately upon sight of their visitors.

"Your weapon worked," Leyton said, bowing his head in a mock display of gratitude. "Consider me impressed, both with your technology and your...cooperation."

"I told you," Alidar sneered, "I am a man of my word. Will you fulfill your side of the deal now?"

"Of course." A smile swept across Leyton's face. "You are free to leave. Come, we will escort you to your ship."

A cold sensation pricked like needles along Carmen's skin._ Deception._ He was lying with every ounce of his being. She wanted to shout something, to warn Alidar and Toleel, but the guards were already gathering her up to follow them out the door.


	31. What Choice

**So as I've been writing, these characters keep taking over and doing their own thing, and it turns there are more chapters left than I originally estimated hahaha. I'm aiming to be done in the next few weeks, though! Thanks for sticking with me, you guys are THE BEST. Jleto-Awww your words are too kind! Thank you so much :-) And also, that game! I can't believe someone stole my idea! :-p **

* * *

"_You'll...make sure to come back soon, won't you?"_ _Lwaxana asked him at her kitchen table one night. Suitcases lay by the door, packed and waiting for the morning. Moonlight, warm and golden, pooled in the windowsill. After a month on Betazed, it was time to return to the Enterprise, to return to his command chair. But not to life as he knew it. Deanna would need a lot of help with the baby so she could resume her own duties. Carmen would need trombone lessons and game nights, things Riker had planned to make sure she didn't feel forgotten. And his crew, meanwhile, would still need their commander. _

"_Of course we'll come back," he said, his feet (and his thoughts) pointing towards the door. _

_Lwaxana rocked her newborn grandson in the crook of her arm. Her bracelets jingled together like the chiming of a small bell and his eyelids gave a flutter. "Just...please, Will." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Bring them back to me. Always bring them back."_

_Riker looked up. Her entreaty pulled his thoughts away from the Enterprise. His life was about to become a little noisier, a little messier. But she would still be here after they left, sitting at her kitchen table with empty arms and a quiet house. Then he understood what she was asking of him. _

"_I'll bring them back, Lwaxana," he promised, reaching across the table and touching the side of her arm. It was his way of saying, "I'll take good care of them because they're my life, too."_

"_Thank-you," she murmured. "And...make sure to drink enough water. I haven't seen you drink very much today-your skin is starting to look dull and dry."_

_Smiling, Riker leaned back in his chair. She was just reminding him to take good care of himself, too. And that was a mother's way of saying, "I love you."_

Riker bounced on his heels as he watched the Klingon shuttle coast through the open bay doors. Lwaxana was on that shuttle. He had promised to bring her daughter home again, and then sent her straight into the enemy's hands while he stayed safely on the bridge. Starfleet would understand that duty came first, that his obligation to the Enterprise was paramount to all else. But Lwaxana never saw things the way Starfleet did. He had willingly risked the lives of his family-_her_ family-and whatever the outcome, Riker felt sure that he had broken something irreparably.

The shuttle landed with a final hiss from the disengaged engines. Riker held his breath. He could feel her presence, anxious and hovering. A hatch released from one of the shuttle's pale green sides and swung to the floor in a slow, controlled motion.

"Are you alright?" his father whispered. Riker had begun to sweat. He wiped an arm across his forehead before resuming an expectant stance.

"I'm fine. Just let me handle this."

Kyle wanted to press the issue, but decided against it. He had just watched the commander play chicken with an entire Borg ship, but it was a little old Betazoid lady that made him sweat? He turned his eyes to the open hatch, morbidly curious.

Lwaxana Troi emerged through a haze of exhaust. She stood at the top of the gangway, wearing a somber, silver gown that hung from delicate clasps at each of her shoulders. Her hair lay in braided mahogany rings atop her head. Though her eyes were pools of darkness, they felt like spotlights washing over Riker as they sought his face in the crowd. "William…" she breathed, and descended in a shroud of silver satin.

Summoning all of his courage, all of his authority, he stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Now before you say anything, Lwaxana," he began, "you should know that I tried to stop her. I didn't want Deanna going over to that Borg ship. I wish I had fought her harder on it, but we both know it wouldn't have done any good." His voice picked up speed under her steady gaze. "I would have gone in her place, but as captain of the ship, my hands were essentially tied to the bridge. I did everything I could. And Carmen, she left without my permission, without my knowledge even. She-

"Shut up, William." She drew herself to a stop in front of the commander, craning her neck to keep hold of his gaze. "Now quit your blubbering and come here."

With that, Lwaxana pulled him into her arms. She made a series of soft, chiding clucks as she rocked him gently back and forth. "I'm here now, love. I'm here. It's going to be alright."

To Kyle's amazement, his son's resolve weakened in her arms. His knees soon followed suit. He was crumbling in her hold, his courage and authority falling in shambles around his feet. His arms went around her in return and he embraced her as tightly as he dared, holding on as though his life depended on it. His shoulders began to shake at the top of every breath, and he reminded Kyle of a little boy just awakened from a nightmare. This woman had the power to not only incite fear, but banish it as well.

Another figure emerged from the open hatch. He stood tall and broad, with a mane of coarse hair and a graying beard that touched the top of his barrel-like chest. His eyes swept the room, glistening with the indomitable pride of his people.

"Captain T'argon?" Kyle stepped forward to greet him, as his son was in no condition to perform diplomatic duties. The Klingon grunted and nodded.

"You are the captain of this ship?"

"Me? No, the captain is...indisposed at the moment. But I can take you to him."

Riker's head snapped up. "I don't know if that's a good idea. He's-"

"Poor Jean Luc!" Lwaxana cried. "He needs me now more than ever! Come, come. You there-" She nudged her chin sharply towards Kyle. "Fetch my bags."

Kyle's face pinched together with a frown. "Look, I don't know who you think I am, but-"

"I know exactly who you are." She patted the side of his cheek as she glided past. "Now be a dear and bring the luggage."

* * *

As there were three large suitcases to carry, Kyle trailed behind and soon lost sight of his son. The Klingon ambled beside him, too deep in thought to offer any assistance. "This Jean Luc...she seems fond of him," he noted.

"Yes, it sounds that way," Kyle said, adjusting his grip on one of the handles.

"Tell me, has he taken a mate?"

"Beg your pardon?" The suitcase fell to the floor. Kyle cursed under his breath, for one of its corners had landed directly on his toes.

"Your captain. Has he taken a mate?"

"No, I don't think so." He found the handle again and stooped to pick it up, the other two bags balancing precariously on his arm.

"Hmph." The Klingon seemed dissatisfied with his answer for some reason. But he did not try to make more conversation. It felt like they had walked the entire length of the ship by the time they reached sickbay. Kyle dumped the suitcases unceremoniously on the floor as soon as they stepped inside, then leaned over his knees to catch his breath.

It was easy to locate Picard. The Betazoid woman had already found him and was imposing her concern on the waylaid captain. "Now don't move, I just need to take a look-" she said, holding his head so she could examine the cybernetic implants. "Ugh, they call this an improvement? Look what they've done to your magnificent face!"

Behind Kyle, the Klingon gave a snort like a bull ready to charge. Kyle inched nervously to the side.

"I'm fine, ambassador, really," Picard insisted, squirming in her grip. She lightly rapped the top of his head.

"Hold still. And where do you get the nerve, calling me 'ambassador?' Really, Jean Luc…"

"Mother, leave the poor man alone! He's been through enough!" Troi appeared, all but one of her implants removed. Crusher smiled, walking just behind her and trying to contain a very excited baby boy. The captain sank into his pillow, his chest caving with relief.

Lwaxana released her prisoner with a joyful sob. "Little One!" she cried as her daughter fell forward into her arms. She wrapped her up tightly, her silver dress surrounding them both like a cloud. They murmured a few things back and forth, and Kyle felt suddenly as though he were intruding upon a private moment. When he looked over at Riker, he noticed a sheen of tears in his son's eyes.

"Your beautiful hair…" Lwaxana said, running a rueful hand over her daughter's smooth head.

"I'm sure it will come back in time, mother."

"Yes. Like a lot of other things." She tilted Troi's chin down to plant a gentle kiss.

"I believe there's someone else who is excited to see you," Crusher interjected. Lwaxana erupted in a joyful shriek at the sight of her grandson (Kyle winced with how it rang in his ears) and then dissolved into a string of babbling, incoherent words. As she swooped Billy up into her arms, the two appeared to be speaking the same language. Billy rambled on and on, presumably catching her up on recent events, while she pinched his cheeks and fussed with his hair and answered in kind.

"Oh! I have a gift for you!" She fetched something from the billows of her dress, a flower with a rattle for a stem and petals made of soft, flexible wire. "From Obbim," she said, placing it into Billy's eager hands. "You remember dear Obbim, don't you? He made something for your sister, too! I'll show you later."

T'argon, who had been waiting patiently, now cleared his throat with a raspy growl. "You are the captain, I presume?" he said, his dark eyes fixed on the pale and weary man reclining in the bio bed.

"Yes," he answered, struggling to stand. Crusher hurried to his side to help him up. "I am Captain Picard. And I cannot thank you enough for coming to our aid. The fight...did not go well."

"But you were victorious! All great battles come at a price."

"A price that thousands have paid for," Picard lamented.

"And the Federation is still divided," Kyle reminded them. "Admiral Leyton has the leverage he needs now, to exploit that dissension for himself. We have to put a stop to his plans."

"Have you not heard?" T'argon's words created a dreadful anticipation that hung thickly in the air. "Leyton has declared martial law."

The captain's face gained color with an outrage that smoldered in his voice and lit an old fire in his belly. "But the Borg ship was destroyed-there is no threat to Earth anymore! How could the council put up with this?"

"What choice do they have?" Kyle clasped his hands together firmly, more out of guilt than anger. He had enabled Leyton to finish building his weapon, and in doing so, had torn apart his son's family. But what choice did _he_ have? "Leyton possesses the only means to fight against a future attack."

"Once we find Carmen, we'll find the weapon," Riker declared. Troi leaned against him pleadingly, the reminder of their daughter too much to bear. He wrapped a supportive arm around her waist, holding fast to his wife, and to his hope.

"How do we do that, Number One?"

"I'll get in touch with President Jaresh," Kyle said, answering for him. "See if any relay buoys have picked up her signal yet."

While the others conceded silently, T'argon looked from face to face in confusion. "Who is this Carmen?" he asked.

Lwaxana took charge of answering him. "Carmen is my granddaughter. And that Leyton scoundrel has her."

"Leyton!" The Klingon fumed. Kyle could hear the leather of his uniform bracing against an angry swell of his chest. "That_ tahqeq_ has the granddaughter of Lwaxana Troi, heir to the holy rings of Betazed and holder of the sacred chalice of Rixx?"

T'argon's lips curled back in a snarl. His eyes bulged angrily from their sockets. Kyle stared at the Klingon, dumbfounded (and somewhat frightened) by his reaction. He inched a little further away. Lwaxana, meanwhile, basked in his fury. "Can you believe that he would steal from my family? That he would bring dishonor to the Fifth House? Jean Luc-" She turned dramatically towards the captain. "We cannot stand for this! How soon can we get this old thing underway?"

"Uh, the ship?"

"Yes, the ship!"

T'argon's eyes whipped between her and the captain. "No, Lwaxana! If Leyton has this weapon that you speak of, then this ship will be useless against him. It is nothing more than a piece of floating garbage!"

Picard's jaw squared with indignation, but he remained silent and let the Klingon forge ahead, straight into Lwaxana's plan.

"I have a whole fleet out there that is hungry for battle. Let us accompany you to your enemy's door. Honor shall be restored to the Fifth House, I swear it!" Billy cheered, inspired by the Klingon's fervent promises (or his parents' amusement), and T'argon growled appreciatively. "This one has fire in his eyes. Just like you," he said, and lifted Lwaxana's hand to his lips. "I will go and make preparations. _Qapla_, my princess."

After bidding the others a curt goodbye, the Klingon withdrew from their stupefied midst. It took Riker a few moments to be able to form words again. "Fire in your eyes?"

"What?" Lwaxana planted a hand on her hip. "You don't believe him?"

"I just didn't...I mean...you and a Klingon?"

"Sure, he's not my type," she said, brushing off the incredulous stares. "And what a shame. But he's a marvelous fellow, don't you think? Now come on, Deanna. Let's get you to bed and I'll make a nice cup of Jestral tea. Kyle-don't forget my luggage."


	32. Reckless

"Would a little color hurt?" Lwaxana flitted from one end of the sofa to the other, arranging and rearranging every pillow with a vengeance. "I mean, just because the Enterprise looks like a mausoleum doesn't mean your living room has to. Lift your feet, dear."

With a groaning sort of sigh, Troi lifted her feet. Lwaxana swatted at the pillow several times, fluffing it back into shape, and then set her daughter's feet on top.

"How's that?"

"It's fine, mother. And it was fine before."

"William! Oh, there you are. Hurry, hurry-she's cold as ice."

Riker emerged from the hallway, his face hidden behind a mound of blankets. He peered around the side. "She is? Should I call Beverly?"

"She's exaggerating," Troi said flatly, but Lwaxana buried her beneath several blankets (and then several more) before dashing off to prepare some tea.

Muffled syllables, strung together like a song, drifted up from somewhere under the mountain. Troi pulled back the layers to uncover Billy's head. He lay sprawled atop her chest, his new toy clutched tightly in one hand. His song turned into an affectionate murmur when he felt his mother's hand brush his cheek.

"He's missed you," Riker said, crouching beside the pair. Troi gazed raptly at the baby. As she ran her fingers through his untamed curls again and again, her hand started to tremble. Then a sound, soft and mournful, breezed through her lips.

"It was like a bad dream," she whispered. "Like I was lost in the dark, and couldn't find my way out. The voices...they followed me wherever I went. Then I felt a touch on my hand. It was her, Will. It was Carmen. She begged me to say something, to talk to her. She just wanted to know I was there, but I couldn't...I couldn't…"

Riker leaned closer and rubbed the side of her arm. "Shh, shh," he crooned, trying not to picture the young woman at her mother's bedside, desperate for comfort and reassurance. "That part's over now."

"Not for her. She's still lost." Troi swallowed a shaky breath. "What if she can't sleep? What if she's hungry? Or cold? I need her back, Will. Please...I need her back." She wrapped an arm around Billy, holding the only child they had left a little tighter, a little closer.

A lump formed in Riker's throat. His wife had thrown herself to the darkness in their daughter's place. To wake up from that nightmare and find her sacrifice wasted was more than a mother should have to bear. Troi above all others had invested in the young woman, who had come to them a lost and wounded soul. Though the last three years had healed many of those wounds, there were still days when her past would stand close as a shadow. A deep weariness would seep into her eyes. A name or a face of a lost child soldier would haunt her sleep. And the pain of her misguided guilt would numb all other emotions until she became like a shadow herself.

Riker felt a sting of anger to think of their daughter falling into someone else's hands while she was wounded. What would she do now, without her mother to keep her from plunging into the darkness of her mind?

"Hey, look at me," he said, tilting Troi's face towards his. "My father should be back with the coordinates any minute now. And T'argon is getting his fleet ready for us. We just have to hold on a little longer."

Troi nodded meekly. Her eyes glistened in the dim light, wet with tears. "But what if she can't-what if _we_ can't-"

"We'll get her back, imzadi," Riker promised. "I won't stop until our family is whole again." He pressed his lips to her forehead and then held her for a moment as a shiver of despair ran its course.

A chirp from his combadge made them both jump._ "Worf to Riker. There is a situation in Shuttle Bay Three,"_ came the Klingon's voice.

Riker heaved out a groan, but the counselor gave his hand an understanding squeeze. "What kind of situation?" he replied.

"_I think it best if you see for yourself, sir."_

Riker frowned, puzzled (and mildly irritated) by the Klingon's cryptic tone. A situation at this point would only serve as a delay. Surely the lieutenant could handle this on his own?

"I can take it from here," Lwaxana said, gently (and then not so gently) nudging Riker out of the way.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Promise." He cupped his wife's chin in his hands and gave her a quick kiss. She smiled in the wake of the gesture. As he pulled away, he let his eyes roam her face for a moment. "I sure missed that smile," he said, leaning in for a second, longer kiss.

He was interrupted by Lwaxana swatting him from behind. "The tea is getting cold!" she chided, perching herself on the edge of the couch. "Go on, now. We'll be just fine. Boy, have I got to tell you about Jadyra's latest business venture. You remember Jadyra, don't you? From the Fourth House? Well, she met this diplomat from Altair…"

She prattled on, the sound a deeply comforting one to Riker. Just as Troi had been a refuge for Carmen, Lwaxana was a tower of strength for her own daughter. She had the power to cocoon Troi's mind, not so that something new could emerge, but so that the counselor of the Enterprise could return. She would bring Troi back to them.

Crews filled the ship's corridors as they bustled back and forth, trying to piece the ship back together. Riker could see the weariness in their eyes, in the tired smiles they flashed him as they passed. How he longed now, for the ordinary and uneventful days when these halls were brightly lit and the faces more apathetic.

As he turned the last corner before the shuttle bay, he heard someone shout his name. "Will! She did it, Will!"

He turned around to see his father jogging towards him. "You-you've got the coordinates?" he asked, his hope balancing precariously on the edge of the question.

"I've got them." He gripped Riker's shoulder earnestly. "And if we hurry, Carmen can be home by dinnertime tomorrow."

Riker let out a breath, a breath he felt like he had been holding in for days. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. They were so close, and yet, the next twenty-four hours would feel like centuries. "You don't think Leyton has any suspicions, do you?"

"Not a chance." Kyle shook his head. "President Jaresh reported that the Enterprise was destroyed in battle. Leyton has no idea that we're about to ruin his plans."

"No idea at all," Riker growled, his hands clenching into fists.

"Come on, let's go tell Deanna the good news," he urged. "Wait-is her mother still with her?" A hint of apprehension passed over Kyle's face. But the commander did not see it. He was staring ruefully down the hall towards Shuttle Bay Three.

"You go ahead. There's something I have to take care of first," he said, trudging off.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, then trotted to catch up with his son. "On second thought, I'll go with you."

* * *

"Alright, what's going on?" Riker's voice boomed in the cavernous space. Up ahead, a dejected young man sat at Worf's feet. An officer gave him an unkind nudge with his boot as the commander approached.

"I caught _this_ one trying to steal a shuttlecraft," he fumed. "First Ensign Riker, and now him! Has everyone lost their minds?"

"Explain yourself," Riker demanded. He bent down, grabbing the perpetrator by the arm and yanking him to his feet. The young man did not resist. He did not put up a fight or try to argue with the commander. He merely stood there, a head of chestnut curls hung low to hide his shame.

"I...I didn't want to wait for the ship to be repaired," he mumbled. "She might be in trouble."

Riker dropped the ensign's arm in shock. His jaw fell open and the young man's name came tumbling out. _"Allan?"_

From just behind him, Kyle choked on an exclamation of disbelief. "What in the name of-"

Sheppard started to lift his head, automatically looking up towards the sound of his name. But after meeting Riker's eye for a brief moment, his head whipped down again. "Please, sir. I can't wait any longer. Let me take that shuttle and I'll find her."

"What, that thing?" Riker waved towards an open shuttlecraft. The shock was beginning to wear off, and an unpleasant combination of things filled its place. Guilt. Relief. Exasperation. And, the one that rose above them all, anger. "That shuttle isn't even armed! Even IF you somehow locate the base, how exactly do you plan on getting past Leyton's men?"

Though Sheppard kept his face to the ground, Riker could see the top of his cheeks turn red. "I uh...I didn't think that far ahead yet."

"You didn't-?" Riker groaned in frustration, running both of his hands through his hair. The young man winced as though he had struck him. "Exactly, Allan, you didn't_ think_. You could have been killed! What good are you to Carmen then? To Billy? Do you have any idea how foolish-how downright_ reckless_-"

"I had to try!" he shouted, then froze. He looked just as surprised by his outburst as everyone else. "Look, I...I uh...know what I did was wrong, sir. But I'd do it again. She's been out there alone for too long. All those years she spent fighting somebody else's battles...it's not fair. We can't let her fight our battle, too."

Riker eyed the young man with the beginning of a new respect. _Reckless. _That was the last word to come out of his mouth. Until now, he had never used that word to describe anything about Sheppard. He had known the ensign to be an overly cautious young man, distinctly lacking the ambition of his peers. Riker had always held it against him, but all of a sudden he found himself appreciative of that particular shortcoming. For it meant that he also lacked the conceited tendencies of other young Starfleet officers, the same tendencies that had once inspired Riker to choose a career instead of Troi.

His eyes wandered to the shuttle that Sheppard had tried to steal. Its hatch lay open, the inside dark and empty. But that darkness and that emptiness revealed a certainty to the commander. Sheppard would pursue Carmen every chance he got. Recklessly, he would choose her again and again.

"And...and I don't care what happens to me," Sheppard continued, mustering together a semblance of courage. "Throw me in the brig. Kick me off the Enterprise. Do what you have to do, but I won't...I won't uh..." He swallowed hard. "I won't apologize."

Riker paced the floor slowly, deliberately. The young man tried not to squirm as he awaited his fate. A few times he made eye contact with the commander, only to look away again with a flinch.

Kyle wet his lips and wrung his hands. "Son, look at it this way-" he said, making an attempt to intervene on Sheppard's behalf. While he was just as shocked and appalled at his actions, he had also taken a liking to the boy, enough to impair his judgment.

"I've already decided," Riker interrupted. He drew himself to a stop, looming over the hapless young man. Both Kyle and Sheppard gulped. "You'll be leaving the Enterprise, Ensign Sheppard," he said at length.

It was a devastating blow to the junior officer. The breath left his lungs in one heave. The features of his face twisted together sharply. "Y-yes, sir. I understand," he stammered.

"_And_," Riker continued, taking a certain guilty pleasure in his discomfort, "you'll be going to the IKS Kahlorn."

For a full minute Sheppard stood in place, too dumbfounded to move. "The...what, sir?" he finally managed.

Giving his father a wink, Riker turned and left the shuttle bay. Kyle stepped forward to explain, shaking his head with a dry chuckle of relief. "A Klingon fleet has better chances of making it past Leyton's men, don't you think?"

"A Klingon-?!"

"Hurry! Go get ready," he urged. "Carmen is waiting for us."


	33. A Dying Light

"He's lying to you! Don't listen to him, Alidar!_"_ Carmen's shouts grew more and more desperate as they neared the docking bay. Only Toleel paid any attention to her, stumbling along between two stoic-faced guards. "He's not going to let us go! I'm part Betazoid, I can tell these things! _Alidar!" _

A third guard marched beside Carmen. As she continued to shout and plead, he drove the butt of his phaser into her temple. She slumped to her knees in a daze. A couple more thumps from his weapon sent her sprawling across the ground.

"Leave her alone!" Toleel cried.

"Keep going, boy," the guard warned. "Or you're next."

Alidar pulled on his son's arm. "Listen to him, Toleel. Just a little bit farther, and then we will be free."

"And what if she's right? What if he's just going to kill us all?"

Leyton stepped around the semiconscious young woman with a click of his tongue. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it sooner. Pay no attention to her."

Muffled laughter drifted up from the floor. Still face down, Carmen's body shook with every wave of the mirthless sound.

"Something amusing, Ensign Riker?" Leyton asked, digging his toe into her ribs.

She rolled onto her side with a final note of laughter. "I'm just thinking about what my dad's going to do to you," she said. "Whatever your plan is, he'll find out. He won't stop until he gets the truth."

The admiral squatted down beside her. "Oh, my dear child," he said. "You haven't heard, have you?"

"Heard what?" she spat.

"Commander Riker is dead."

He watched her with a hungry sort of smile, waiting for the full effect of his words to settle over her features.

"No, you-you're lying!"

"And I thought you could tell these things?" The smile stretched cruelly across his face. "The truth is, they are _all _dead. The Enterprise was destroyed along with the Borg ship. President Jaresh has already given the official report."

"No...no…"

"They didn't even try to get out of the way. Makes you wonder if they were planning another rescue attempt for Captain Picard. Oh well. I'll make sure their sacrifice gets a plaque or something at Starfleet Headquarters." He paced around her head as she lay on the floor, each of his words landing like the stab of a knife.

Alidar watched the slow and silent death of her hope. He wanted to feel satisfied with her suffering. To revel in the tears that streamed down her face. But instead, something seemed to break in his own heart.

He had found a soldier once, left to die in the dust of an unnamed planet. Alidar stopped to tend his wounds when the soldier suddenly grabbed his hand, his eyes wide and bulging. He breathed a single word, the name of a woman, and then slipped away before his eyes had time to close. Alidar swore he saw the man's soul ebb from the depths of those eyes. He saw a light fading into darkness, a shine dulled by death. Though his face still held the ghost of his final moments, he was no longer a man. Now, he was just another body lying in the dust.

That's what was happening in the young woman's eyes. A light fading into darkness. A soul fleeing from the pain. A shine dulled by the death of all she held dear. She had nothing left, just as Alidar wanted. But there was no victory in her defeat.

He still had nothing, too.

"Funny, isn't it?" Leyton continued. "This is the second time you've escaped that ship before it was destroyed. You're a _sole survivor._ Do you know what that means?" He crouched beside her again, whispering into her ear. "It means you are alone. Nobody is coming to your rescue. What's the matter, Ensign Riker? Don't feel like laughing now?"

She turned onto her stomach, drawing her knees beneath her. Tears formed little rivers in the creases of her eyes. She pressed her forehead to the ground, quaking with every sob. Alidar looked away, if only to let her grieve without being made into a spectacle. It was the least he could do.

"Satisfied, Mister Alidar?" Leyton asked, setting his sights on the Romulan now. Toleel stared at his father with burning disgust. He seemed to be asking the same question.

"No, I...I was wrong." Alidar's chest heaved with the bitter confession. "The suffering of one does not ease the suffering of another. Leave her alone, I beg you."

A terse line took the place of Leyton's lips. "You may have changed your mind, but I gave you what you wanted. Remember that."

In a clumsy show of tenderness, Alidar approached the young woman and tried to help her up. She merely slumped back to the ground, deprived of her strength. Her defiance. Her fight. "Come on," he urged. "We need to leave this place."

Brisk footsteps sounded in the corridor. Carmen vaguely recognized the tall, squarely built figure as Commander Talbot. He advanced towards the party with a nervous twitch in his jawline. "We've made contact, sir. They are six minutes out," he reported.

"Ah." Leyton smiled, pleased with the news. He turned to Alidar. "Go, your ship is almost here."

"My ship?" The Romulan's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? My ship is already docked."

"No, I'm afraid that's_ my_ ship," Leyton replied, his smugness growing with every passing second. "You'll be leaving on a different one."

"But you said-!" As Alidar made a lunge for him, the guards quickly intervened. "What are you doing?" he cried, struggling against their grip. "We had a deal, Leyton! Does that mean nothing to you?"

"I made another deal," Leyton replied, raising his voice above the Romulan's protests. "A deal that no other Starfleet admiral has ever been able to secure. A deal with the Tal Shiar."

Toleel paled. His eyes grew wide and frightened. "The-the Tal Shiar?" he stammered. "No! I can't go back there!"

Talbot clamped down on his shoulder to keep the boy from fleeing. It only enraged Alidar more. With a roar of anger, he flung one of the officers to the ground.

"Don't do it, Romulan!" Talbot growled. He dug his phaser into the boy's neck. Toleel tried to wriggle free, but Talbot squeezed his shoulder until he yelped in pain.

"Toleel! No!" Alidar stopped struggling. He hung between two of the guards, panting for breath as he glanced between Talbot and the admiral. "Don't hurt him. Please," he begged.

"I don't care what happens to him," Leyton sneered. "The Tal Shiar were more interested in you and the girl. But _you_ should care, my friend. You should care that your actions are endangering your son's life. Do we have an understanding now?"

Though his chest swelled with hatred and humiliation, Alidar nodded. He cast one last look at his son, volumes of shame and regret in his silence, before letting the guards drag him away.

"No!" Toleel shouted. His fear lashed out into anger. "Why are you giving up? You can't let them do this! Get back here! Carmen-you have to get up, Carmen!"

"Move along," Talbot barked, letting go of him with a shove. But Toleel acted quickly, instinctively, and jabbed his elbow into the commander's stomach. Talbot doubled over in pain, an unsavory exclamation wheezing from his lungs.

The guards whipped around in surprise just as Toleel broke away from the commander's side. He bolted past the admiral, who flailed his arms and floundered for words. "What-you can't-_get him!_"

Still trying to regain his breath, Talbot lifted a phaser in front of his face. Shakily, he leveled it with the boy's fleeing back. Alidar saw it happen in slow motion. He tried to shout a warning, but it came out as a wordless cry instead, a sound filled with terror and mourning and anger that flew from the very depths of his soul. A bolt of energy flew from the weapon at the same time.

The sound struck a chord somewhere deep in Carmen's chest. Her heart had made the same cry when Alidar destroyed her ship. Now, it pierced through the fog of her grief. It shook the numbness from her mind and brought her muscles back to life. With a burst of strength, she launched herself at Toleel as he raced past.

They fell to the floor together, the beam of energy missing them by inches. The boy curled into a frightened ball and she curled herself around him protectively. "Don't move!" she whispered. "I've got you!"

Talbot hesitated. It was only for a moment, but a moment was all Alidar needed to recover his wits. A rage, deep and paternal, erupted in his chest. He struck at the guards, flinging their weapons away and demolishing them with his fists instead. He fought them with ruthless abandon, with the strength of a desperate man, with the same wrath that had once destroyed the Enterprise.

Fear rooted Leyton to the ground. He watched his men break like twigs in the Romulan's hands, all their skill and stamina rendered obsolete to a father's fury. A feeling of dread sank in the pit of Leyton's stomach. His plans were unraveling, and there was only one thing he could do about it.

_Run._

He left his men behind and sprinted down the long, curved hallway towards a security door at the far end. His hand shook violently as he punched in the code, causing him to fumble the sequence. Cursing under his breath, he started to enter the numbers a second time when someone plowed into him from behind.

Pitching forward, he struck his head against the door. His vision swam. His arms and legs went limp. Next thing he knew he lay flattened on the floor, his attacker whaling upon him relentlessly. His thoughts scattered anew with every blow.

"P-please!" he stuttered, throwing his hands in front of his face. "Don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"

To his surprise, the blows stopped. His head still rang, throbbing with every beat of his heart, and he whimpered in pain from behind his hands. Slowly, he spread his fingers just enough to catch a glimpse of his attacker.

"Had enough?" Carmen growled. She clutched one of her arms to her chest. The beating had displaced her bone again, and she knew she was in for a world of pain once the adrenaline wore off. But she also knew that the sight of Admiral Leyton begging for mercy was worth it.

"It was nothing personal, I swear," he panted. "You were leverage, that's all. If you let me up, I'm sure we can come to some sort of...of arrangement…"

"_No more deals, Leyton!"_ Alidar's voice made a little wail of terror rise in the admiral's throat. "Move, child. He is mine."

Carmen turned her shoulders, lifting her palms in the air. "Don't do this Alidar," she warned.

With a snarl of impatience, he jabbed a finger at the young woman. "Move, I tell you. He is unfit to live!"

"We can't kill him," she said firmly.

"Look, I know you have spent some time in this universe. That you have adopted their principles of peace and mercy. But he has-"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Carmen interrupted. The Romulan paused, taken aback.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we can't kill him because he's our ticket out of here. He's our leverage." She turned back towards Leyton, a hollow smile twisting her lips. "Nothing personal, you know." He groaned to hear his own words coming back to him. "Just take us to Alidar's ship, or I will step away and let him have you."

"But-but-you are a Starfleet officer! You wouldn't leave me with the enemy!"

"Why not? It's exactly where_ you_ left _me_."

Leyton gulped. As much as he despised the young woman, and the way she seemed to have a knack for escaping fate, she was the only thing standing between him and a grisly fate of his own.

"It-it's no problem at all," he sniveled. "I'll do as you say."

Alidar stepped closer, a disappointed scowl furrowing his face. "Is he telling the truth?"

"Yes." She climbed to her feet, grabbing the admiral to hoist him up as well. "This time, he is telling the truth."

* * *

Carmen ran her hand over the arm of the chair. She had never been on a Romulan bridge before. It felt strange, as though it were all just a simulation. Or a bad dream.

After they had made it to Alidar's ship, and once they had left the base behind, a numbness returned to her chest. She couldn't bear to look at the stars, knowing that her family was no longer out there. Absent-mindedly, her hand went to the lump of gold still lodged in her sock. The breath caught in her throat as it rolled into her palm. _Gold._ The color of Alaska. The color of the morning sun on Curtis Creek and the Kootenai mountains in their autumnal shroud. Gold, the color that played across her father's smiling eyes when she caught her first rainbow trout.

"Are you alright?"

Carmen opened her eyes to find Toleel at her side. She had inhaled sharply at the memory of her father. "I...I'll be fine," she said, though tears threatened to break her voice. "Anything I can do to help? I'm used to working on a ship's bridge, you know."

Alidar scoffed at the young woman. "Romulan technology is above your training." He grinned as she rolled her eyes. "But I am not familiar with this sector; I'll need you to lay in a heading."

Both Carmen and Toleel stared at him, puzzled. "I don't know where we're going," she retorted. "I wasn't conscious the last time I went through the wormhole, if that's still the plan."

Alidar's grin faded. "No, that is not the plan. I was wondering if you knew of a Federation-protected planet somewhere near here. Somewhere safe for you and Toleel."

"What about you?" Toleel piped up. Slowly, and with a nervous wringing of his hands, he approached his father's chair.

"I belong over there," he said, a faint apology dancing with the sadness in his smile. "And I will return, once I know you are safe."

"There's nothing left by now." Carmen folded her arms across her chest. "Both of our homeworlds were destroyed at the start of the war."

Alidar blew out a long and weary breath before speaking again. "I made Picard a promise-a promise to unite our people against a common threat. Humans and Romulans alike have died in the name of prejudice. But what are our differences, in the face of the Borg? They are meaningless trivialities that fall away when it comes to the right to live. He understood that. And so did I, once."

A glistening tear fell from Toleel's eye. It was the first time he had seen his father-his real father-in years. He rested one of his trembling hands on his shoulder. "Let me go with you," he said softly. "Please...dad. Don't leave me again."

Alidar seemed to crumble beneath the gentle touch. His own hands lifted, encompassing the boy's face. He looked at him as though it were for the first time. "Son?"

"I'm here, dad." Toleel threw his arms around him. A muffled sob of joy rose from their embrace. Carmen wasn't sure who had made the sound, but tears of her own fell as she felt a surge of something warm, something healing, come over her senses.

A memory drifted within view. She saw herself standing among the ruins of an ancient planet. Riker and Troi had come to rescue her from an ill-fated away mission._ "What if it's all the same?"_ she had argued. _"That means you'll leave me again-both of you! I can't keep losing."_

"_Don't run from this chance. You can be more than a warrior now," _Troi had pleaded.

"_But I don't know how to be anything else."_

"_You were a daughter once. And you can be a daughter again, if you'd like. If you'd take that chance."_

She remembered crashing into the counselor. Riker picking them both up in a hug. An embrace that broke her heart even as it healed it.

She uncurled her fingers, the lump of gold suddenly heavy in her palm. Earth still existed in this universe. But her home was gone.

"I'll go with you," she declared.

Toleel pulled away from his father, wiping at his cheeks. "You'll what?"

"I'll go with you. I'll help find somebody willing to make an alliance. I...I owe it to Picard to carry on his plans."

Alidar nodded slowly. "Yes, well...just this once, I suppose I can make an exception."

Carmen tilted her head to the side. "An exception to what?"

"To having a human commander as part of my crew. Welcome aboard, Commander Riker."

"Hey!" Toleel nudged his shoulder. "Why does _she_ get to be commander?"

"Because you're the captain."

A round of laughter passed between all three of them, lifting a shroud of heaviness from the bridge. Carmen turned to the screen in front of her, which blinked with foreign symbols, and was about to make another remark when a loud sound blared from her console. She nearly leapt on top of her chair in surprise. "What does that mean?" she shouted.

Alidar swallowed hard. "Oh no…" he breathed. "The Tal Shiar. They found us."


	34. When in Rome

**Here is an extra long chapter for you to make up for how slow I've been putting these out. I've been doing too much writing for later chapters, and not enough for current ones! Also, I somehow still have like five more chapters left? Haha, I guess I'm ****really bad at outlining! Or at least sticking with an outline :-D. Sorry!**

* * *

Kyle didn't care much for the_ IKS Kahlorn_. It was dark, it was dank, and worst of all, it smelled of Klingons. After a briefing with Riker and Captain T'argon, he found that his presence had become obsolete. There was nothing more he could do until they reached the base. Riker went off to make sure the counselor was comfortable in their new quarters, while the captain said something about his "fire-eyed princess" and left without even excusing himself. No doubt he wanted to make sure Lwaxana was comfortable as well. Kyle shuddered at the thought.

He returned to his bunk to get some rest, but his overwrought mind wouldn't let him sleep. The bed felt hard and unforgiving, like the weight of his thoughts. He didn't need rest-he needed resolution. He needed to make his son's family whole again. And while resolution was close, it was not close enough.

Rolling onto his side, he caught sight of a rumpled bag on the floor. Sheppard's bag. It was with a brief wash of relief that he remembered the young man had come with them. Sheppard had barely spoken a word since they boarded, choosing to stay out of the way for the most part (especially out of the commander's way). He seemed even more miserable than Kyle, a dejected shadow merely drifting along with the rest of them.

With a sigh, Kyle swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His relief turned to pity. "You up there, sonny?" he called to the bunk above his.

"Yes, sir," came the softly spoken reply.

Pushing himself to his feet, Kyle turned to peer up at the junior officer. His eyes looked puffy and red, though any tears had long since dried up. He made no attempt to look back at Kyle, but instead stared straight ahead, tufts of brown hair sticking out between his cheek and a paper-thin pillow. Something stirred in the old man's rugged heart. Kyle was used to stony-faced officers, to people like Riker, like himself, who wore masks over their pain. Masks of defiance, of duty, of false strength and forced bravado.

There was nothing false about this young man. He wore his pain in place of a mask. There was something utterly and incorrigibly vulnerable about him. Most of Kyle's life, he had learned to scoff at people with such sensitivities. They were not cut out to be Starfleet officers, he once believed. But now, he understood why Carmen would leave this all behind for the chance of saving it. Now, he understood what it was she so desperately wanted to protect.

For these kinds of people-the shamelessly human ones-were_ exactly_ what Starfleet needed.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Sheppard's nose twitched, making a brief sniffle. "No, sir."

"Me either. Thought I'd give it a try. Anyway-" He shook the young man's shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

"Go where?"

Kyle shook his shoulder again, with more insistence. "To try something else."

* * *

"Not exactly homey, is it?" Kyle said, squinting through a fog of exhaust. A dull red light hung overhead, barely strong enough to pierce the haze. The darkened walls clanked and rattled and hissed with seeming menace.

Sheppard rubbed the outside of his arms. "Are you sure you want to do this, sir?"

"Come on," Kyle goaded. "I'm starving. And when was the last time you had something to eat?"

"It's just...Klingon diet is...well it's…"

"You ever heard the saying, 'When in Rome?' Well, when on a Bird-of-Prey…"

As they turned a corner, clashing voices rose in the air. Kyle tried to decipher it was the cries of a riot or a celebration. Or somehow both. He heard the clinking of dishes accompanied by a revolting sound that conjured up images of flesh and sinew being ripped apart.

"There we go," he said, pretending to sound relieved. "We must be near the food court."

The two of them pushed through a set of swinging doors and found themselves in a long, low hall. Tables fanned out from the center of the room, each one heaped high with mountains of food. Klingons snatched at the piles, eating by the fistful, flecks of meat flying from their ravenous teeth. Kyle put a hand over his stomach.

"Come to think of it, I'm not actually-"

"Allan! Kyle! Come over here, dears." A woman's voice sang across the room. Lwaxana waved them over frantically from one of the crowded tables. She sat perched upon a Klingon's knee, and Kyle recognized his brutish form as Captain T'argon. Bloodwine stained the corners of his lips as he looked up at them with a drunken sheen over his eyes.

"Quick, before she sees us!" Kyle hissed, pulling on the young man's arm. Sheppard dug his heels into the ground.

"She's already seen us! Come on, you'll like Lwaxana. I'll introduce you." He waved back at the ambassador, brightening a little in spite of himself. Kyle's stomach sank.

"Don't bother," he grumbled, skulking along behind Sheppard. "We've already met."

Lwaxana swatted the captain's chest. "Make room, T'argon, make room!" she insisted, flinging him aside with her whole arm when he did not move fast enough. Then she rose from the bench to hold Sheppard captive in a hug. A cup hung from one of her hands, and a dark, pungent liquid dribbled over the young man. "Allan, you look dreadful! Sit down and eat something, before you turn to skin and bones."

"Is that...a donut?" He stared down at a glossy pink pastry on her plate.

"Yes!" she cried, scooping up the plate and shoving it eagerly into his hands. "With sprinkles. Well, it _had_ sprinkles. I already at them all. Here, would you like the rest of it?"

Sheppard nodded silently, sinking down to the bench. Keeping an arm around his shoulders, Lwaxana sank down with him. Kyle stifled an incredulous laugh. The ambassador could not look more out of place among the Klingons. Everything about them was crude by nature-their armor, their language, their laughter. But Lwaxana embodied something much softer, something much more feminine and elegant. Her dress fell to the floor like water, silver and glistening. Her cheeks blushed rosy red, probably from too much drink, but something about the delicate curve of her smile made Kyle's own cheeks flush with color. He looked away with a crisp clearing of his throat before he could make any more observations.

"Eat, eat," Lwaxana urged the young man, hand-feeding him a piece of the donut. "And Madak-fill him up!"

The Klingon sitting on Kyle's other side reached over to pour from a leather flask. Kyle covered Sheppard's cup with his hand. "No, I don't think so," he declined. "Bloodwine is a little out of his league."

"Nonsense! He can handle it!" Lwaxana drained the last of her own cup and then held it out. "Madak-fill mine, too."

The Klingon's eyes, dark and beady, darted towards Kyle. "You heard the lady," he growled. The corner of his lips twitched, flashing a few rotten fangs. Gulping, Kyle shrank back into his seat. Sheppard gulped, too, as he stared at the bloodwine sloshing from Madak's flask.

"There we go," Lwaxana said once both of their cups were brimming. "Cheers!" She lifted her drink into the air.

A rally of shouts rose around the table. The other Klingons lifted their drinks in solidarity. "To glory!" Madak cried.

"To victory!" roared another.

T'argon stumbled to his feet. Half his drink went spilling over the edge, but he paid no mind. "To all our brethren who came before us," he said in a rich baritone. The table fell silent, making way for his speech. "To the ones who have fallen and will meet us in Sto'vo'kor. Oh, to follow their example. Oh, to be a Klingon! Tonight, we feast, and tomorrow-tomorrow, we fight!"

The Klingons rallied together with battle-hungry cries. Lwaxana tapped her cup against Sheppard's, smiling kindly at the young man. "To Carmen," she added, and it drew a faint smile to his lips.

"Allan, be careful-" Kyle started to say, but he brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply before Kyle could finish his warning.

"Stop worrying about him," Lwaxana scolded. "And get yourself something to eat. Things are hard enough as it is. No sense in starving ourselves on top of it all."

Madak shoved a plate in front of him at once. Kyle's stomach made a funny flop as he looked down at a clump of worms. Their pale backs glistened with mucus as they writhed towards the edges of his dish. "Oh uh, thank you," he said, covering his mouth to burp in case more than a belch should arise. "But I'd much prefer a donut. Do you happen to have any more?"

"Sorry, that was the last one."

One of the worms fell onto the table, curling into a defensive ball upon impact. Kyle had just begun to reach for it, his hand trembling, when a knife flashed in front of him. "I've got it, Mr. Riker!" With one clean jerk of the blade, Sheppard split the worm in two.

Kyle's eyes widened. He looked at the young man who had hitherto been so gentle and mild-mannered. "Why did you do that?" he asked. "And where did you get a knife?"

"Carmen gave it to me for Christmas. She always said you have to kill them first," Sheppard explained, tugging on his collar. A sheen of sweat glistened across his face, which had paled by several shades. "Makes them...you know...go down easier."

"You have eaten gagh before?" T'argon asked him, just as astonished.

"Is it hot in here?" The young man wiped a sleeve across his brow. "What's that? Did you say something?"

Kyle pried the cup from his hand, suspicious of the sudden change that had come over him. "You damn near drank the whole thing!"

A strange wheezing sound drifted up from Sheppard's chest and rattled around his throat. It culminated in a hiccup that made his shoulders bounce and his head snap back. After it passed, he smoothed his hair down as though the force might have made it come undone. Then, to Kyle's horror, he picked up a shriveled half of the dead worm and casually dropped it into his mouth.

"Allan? Are you alright?"

Without warning, he slammed the knife down onto the table again. The tip of the blade lodged into the wood, splitting it around a second worm that had tried to escape. The metal sang as it warbled back and forth.

"Allan!" Kyle pulled on the hilt of the knife and dislodged it from the wood. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"When in Rome," Sheppard said with a peculiar grin. "Carmen eats gagh all the time. She prefers pancakes, though. Did you know she likes pancakes?" He plucked up the freshly butchered worm and swallowed it whole. The more he talked, the more his words started to slur. "And Spanish daisies. And striking me out in baseball games._ S_he's a great pitcher, one of the best. Course, I can never keep my eye on the ball when she wears one of those old-fashion baseballs caps...and those white pants that she KNOWS are sort of see-through whenever she bends over...oh God, did I say that out loud? Am I still talking out loud?!"

Kyle hurled a sigh out of the side of his mouth. "He's drunk! One drink, and he's wasted. I told you this was a bad idea."

Lwaxana waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Can _you_ do any better?"

"That's not the point-"

"I knew it." The ambassador took another gulp of bloodwine, scoffing into her drink. "Human men..."

T'argon tore into a pipius claw, grinning wickedly at Kyle with bits of flesh between his teeth. "Human men indeed. At least the boy eats gagh!" Rowdy laughter rocked the other end of the table.

Kyle squared his jaw, indignant. Staring straight at Lwaxana, he grabbed a handful of worms and, hesitating only a moment, shoved them into his mouth.

The table fell silent. Kyle could hear a terrible squelching sound in his ears as he chewed. Beside him, Sheppard tilted his head back in surprise. "What did I tell you, Mr. Riker? You're supposed to kill them first!"

"If you're a child," he taunted, trying to move his tongue through the squirming, slimy mess in his mouth. It took every ounce of control to keep his face from contorting with disgust. "Would you like me to cut your donut for you, too?"

More laughter made its way around the table. Sheppard squinted at Kyle, vaguely aware that the laughter was now directed at him.

"Well, well," Lwaxana said, only mildly impressed. "And I expected you to run."

"Rikers don't run from a challenge," he declared, pounding his chest as he forced the mangled worms down his gullet. T'argon grunted approvingly.

"But they _do_ run."

After slamming his fist against his chest a few more times, Kyle's eyes narrowed at the ambassador. "What do you mean by that?"

"You've been running for fifteen years, sweetheart. It's why William runs. And Carmen. We teach our children, whether we mean to or not."

Her words cut through the air as easily as Sheppard's knife had cut through the worm. She had gone straight for the jugular. "What happened is between me and my son," Kyle said through gritted teeth. "It is none of your business."

T'argon clenched his cup until it splintered into pieces. A growl rumbled deep in his throat. "You would speak to the Daughter of the Fifth House in such a manner?" he bellowed, rising to his feet. The leather of his uniform creaked as he stretched to full height. "On _my_ ship? I will have you-"

_"T'argon!"_ Lwaxana thundered, rising to her full height as well. Though she barely came up to his collarbone, he cowered in the wake of her admonishment, cringing like a scolded dog.

"But my love-"

"I can fight my own battles. Do not interfere again, do you understand?"

The Klingon lowered himself back into his seat. "I understand," he mumbled, resuming his meal without any enthusiasm.

"And as for you, Kyle," Lwaxana said, whirling on him before he could finish marveling at the Klingon's obedience. "You're talking about my family, so it most certainly _is_ my business."

"Fine, but I don't have to listen to this." Kyle pushed away from the table, untangling his legs from the other side of the bench.

"Ah. Running again." Lwaxana waited until he froze, then continued her attack. "You still don't know how much he looks up to you, do you? William, I mean."

Kyle whipped around, a vein bulging angrily across his forehead. "I didn't come here to be judged, alright? I came here to help! To make amends! Call me a coward all you want, but I'm not running anymore. Not when it comes to my son."

"You think being here now makes up for the last fifteen years?"

Kyle's throat tightened. "It's impossible to make up for fifteen years! But I'm doing the best I can-"

"Since when has a word like 'impossible' ever stopped a Riker?" She folded her hands atop the table. An infuriating smirk tugged on the corner of her lips. "You_ are_ still running. That's why you're down here instead of with your son."

"He's a little busy, okay? He has a family of his own now."

"And you're afraid that means he doesn't need you anymore." Her smirk softened into something kinder. "Go to him. Talk to him. Don't worry about Allan, he's-oh dear. Allan, slow down!"

The young man's head was tilted all the way back. A dark red stream ran from the edge of his cup and down his chin as he guzzled on bloodwine. "Where did he get more bloodwine?" Kyle demanded, snatching it away. Sheppard sipped on air for a few moments, unaware that the drink was no longer at his lips.

"I don't know, I was busy talking to _you,_" Lwaxana retorted. Kyle threw her a glare.

"Come on, we need to put him to bed before he passes out." He grabbed the young man under his arms and dragged him away.

Lwaxana lifted Sheppard's feet, helping him clear the bench. "I'll be right back dear," she said to T'argon, who looked as though he wanted to help but was afraid of interfering again.

"Heeey," Sheppard said slowly, looking down at his hands. "Where is...where's my drink?"

"Let's go," Kyle snapped. "Now." He half-carried, half-dragged him out of the food hall, one arm wrapped around his middle. The young man tried to keep up, wavering in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently about something that made him giggle.

It was difficult for Kyle tell if they were going the right way, as every corridor looked the same. Rounding another corner, he paused to try and gain his bearings. "_Take me out to the baaaaall gaaaaame!" _Sheppard burst out in song suddenly. His voice, horrendously off-key, reverberated against the metallic walls. _"Take me out with the crowd!"_

"Oh, I love that song!" Lwaxana said, swinging her dress back and forth in time. "Carmen taught it to me!_ Buy me some peanuts and….crackle janks…"_

Kyle scowled at her beneath his bushy gray eyebrows. "Don't encourage him! This is your mess, ambassador. And it's crackerjacks."

Sheppard wheezed with laughter. "That sounds right, Mr. Riker."

"None of this sounds right," he muttered. "Now can we just get to your bunk quietly, please?"

"Why are you so mad?" Sheppard craned his neck to look over at Lwaxana._ "I DON'T THINK HE LIKED WHAT YOU SAID BEFORE," _he said in an obnoxiously loud whisper.

"This has nothing to do with that!" Kyle turned around, yanking Sheppard with him. "We're going the wrong way. If you'd just be quiet, maybe I could figure out how to get back to our room."

"_HE REMINDS ME OF THE COMMANDER WHEN HE'S GROUCHY," _Sheppard continued. Lwaxana giggled.

"Come now, Will loves you. He just has a different way of showing things."

"_ARE YOU TALKING TO ME? BECAUSE IT SEEMED LIKE THAT STATEMENT COULD BE DIRECTED AT-"_

"Would you stop whispering? You're terrible at it." Kyle drew them all to a halt. They had come to another convergence of hallways, and this time, none of them looked familiar. "Why isn't anything labelled? We're going to miss the whole battle because we can't-"

"This way." Lwaxana looped her arm through his and strutted off down the one of the corridors. "And I suppose it could have been directed at you. William still loves you very much, in spite of everything."

Kyle felt his patience fraying. He wished now that he had never left his bunk in the first place. "Can you spare me the counseling session? Your daughter already gave me one and I am very tired."

"Oh, good. Deanna was pretty heartbroken, you know. When you missed the wedding."

"She...was?" He nearly stopped in his tracks, but the ambassador gently urged him on. Sheppard stumbled along at his other side.

"Yes, for William mostly. It took awhile for him to get over it."

Kyle said nothing. Though he wouldn't admit it, he understood a little better why she had gone after him so hard. He would have done the same, if someone else had hurt his son the way he had.

"I...didn't think he wanted to see me," he admitted after a prolonged silence of trudging through the dark. "It was supposed to be a happy day. I didn't want to ruin anything."

"You're lying." She patted the outside of his arm. "But it's okay. You're getting there."

"Getting where?" Kyle demanded.

"To the truth."

"And _you_ know the truth?"

Sheppard hiccuped, and the sound bounced back to them in an echo. He laughed, utterly amused by it. Lwaxana smiled, and Kyle couldn't be sure if it was because of the young man or because of his own outrage.

"I'm a mother, Kyle. I know what it's like to be pushed away. We want to help them through everything in life, but we don't always know how. Sometimes, we come off as overbearing in our efforts. And sometimes...we push them away, too. We tell ourselves it's what they wanted."

"Exactly. Will wanted to do everything on his own. He-"

"Will wanted to know that his father loved him." She sighed, suddenly plaintive. "Why is that so hard to understand? You weren't doing him a favor. You were indulging your own pain."

"Please don't bring Betty into this-"

"This is all about Betty," she shot back. "You have to let her go, Kyle. You were the one who survived. I know you've been trying to punish yourself for that, but Will was the one being punished all along. He didn't have to lose a mother _and_ a father. Ah, here we are."

Kyle saw the door to their bunks up ahead, like a light at the end of the tunnel. He tried to brush off her final words, but felt them sinking into his mind, burrowing into his conscience. He felt a sudden pang of urgency to see his son again, to see that boy who used to look up at him with yearning blue eyes.

"Well, at least he found himself a mother," he said. Though the words tasted bitter, he tried to speak them gently. Gratefully. "You two seem...close."

"We wore each other down, I suppose," she said. "It took a lot for me to trust someone with Deanna. And it took a lot for him to open up. But look at the outcome. Look at our beautiful family."

A sincere smile pulled at Kyle's lips. Quickly, however, it turned bittersweet. "Did you mean it?" he asked. "When you said that Will...that he still looks up to me?"

"I haven't lied to you yet," she said.

"Then you think he'll mind if I went and stopped by his quarters before bed?"

"I think that's exactly what you should do."

Kyle's smile returned, full strength. "Come on, Allan. Let's get you settled in." He guided the young man across the threshold. But Sheppard paused beside his bunk, swaying unsteadily on his feet. His face seemed to darken suddenly, like a cloud blotting out the sun. It made Kyle uneasy. "Allan?"

"She just wanted to bury them," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"What?"

"The kids. The...other child soldiers. Every time one of them was killed, she wanted to give them a proper burial. Klingons...they have a different idea of death, though. The body doesn't mean anything after the soul is gone. But it never sat right with her, to leave them behind like that."

"Come on, sonny. You need to lie down-"

"What about her?" he blurted out. Tears welled in his eyes and his lips trembled to speak again. "Who's going to give her a proper burial? She ought to be buried on a planet-a pretty planet, with lots of beaches and trees. All her life on ships-don't you think she deserves a final resting place?"

"Quit talking like that," Kyle scolded.

"Thank-you, Mr. Riker." Sheppard stared straight ahead, as if in a trance. "You've been very kind to me. Don't wait too long to tell Lwaxana how you feel, okay? We think we have time, but...we don't. We really don't."

Slowly then, like a tree tipping over, he fell face-down on the floor and did not move again. A heavy, muffled snore rose up, the only sound.

Kyle spread his fingertips over his forehead and blew out a sigh. At first, he felt relieved that the boy had finally stopped talking. Then he realized that he was now alone with the ambassador, and his relief turned to embarrassment.

"He-he didn't know what he was talking about," Kyle said, mustering a small laugh. "He was just projecting, or something like that. I know that you and T'argon….Lwaxana? Is everything alright?"

Something strange had come over the ambassador. She was leaning heavily against the corner of the bed, one hand over her heart. "No…" she whispered, pleading with some invisible force. "Not you, too."

Concern flooded Kyle's face. He touched her on the shoulder, trying to break whatever spell had possessed her. "What is it? What's happening?"

Her eyes squeezed shut. "Come on, Bright Eyes. Come back to me."

"I"ll go get the counselor." As he turned towards the door, she grabbed him by the wrist.

"No-don't do that. She doesn't know."

"Know what?" He turned back around, making no attempt to pull away from her grasp.

"Her mind, it's been ravaged by those...those_ things_. I built a wall to protect her, to give her some privacy while she heals. And...in case something like this happened."

"Something like _what?"_

"Poor boy. I wonder if he felt it, too." She looked down at Sheppard, his snores grating against the hard ground. "He's only human, but any bond with a Betazoid is a strong one. Our blessing can be a curse sometimes. When Kestra died…" She sank down onto the bed, still clutching her chest. "It stole my legs. My lungs. And when it was Ian's turn, it felt like someone shook the whole world beneath my feet. I thought I'd never love again."

Kyle recognized the sorrow that swam in the depths of her dark eyes. She had lost somebody, too. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. She moved her hand down from his wrist until she had laced their fingers together.

"Life is a powerful force. Betazoids...we can sense that force, feel it as tangibly as you feel my hand. She's gone. I know because I can't feel her anymore."

Then Kyle understood. The realization hit him in the chest like a bullet. "Carmen?"

She nodded, swallowing a shaky breath. "Yes."

"You mean she's…?"

"I don't know. Something's happened to her, but it didn't hit me like the others, like a wave. More like a ripple...spreading out across the water and then gone without a trace. Bright Eyes...Bright Eyes, where are you?"

Her voice trailed off into a broken whisper. She seemed frail all of a sudden. Weak. As vulnerable and mask-less as the junior officer. "You stay here. I'll break the news to Will and Deanna, if you'd like," he offered. "Should I do it now or wait til morning?"

"No!"

She clutched his hand tighter. "Please don't. Not yet. Not when we are so close."

He stared at her quizzically. "You want me to lie to our children?"

"No. I just...I want you to wait. Hope is such a fragile thing. Let them carry it a little while longer."

As Kyle debated, the gravity of the situation slowly pulled his heart to the floor. He had been the one to convince Carmen to leave. And so he felt that some of that weight would always be his to carry.

The door burst open suddenly, nearly giving Kyle a heart attack. Seeing T'argon come through in a drunken stumble, Kyle dropped Lwaxana's hand sheepishly.

"We weren't-this isn't what it looks like-"

"My princess!" the Klingon said, disregarding Kyle entirely. "Won't you grace us with your presence again? The feast is nearly over and the blood pies have been brought out. Come, celebrate with us!"

Kyle cringed at his timing. While he told himself he should have been relieved that the Klingon was there to take over, he couldn't help but feel the sting of something sharp. Something that felt a lot like disappointment.

"I'm more tired than I thought," Lwaxana said. "I think I'll go lie down, actually."

The captain frowned, puffing out his lower lip. "Very well. Would you like me to bring you anything?"

"No thank-you, T'argon. Good-night."

As Lwaxana stood up, she cast a small, rueful smile behind her that somehow alleviated the sting in Kyle's chest. He nodded farewell, not moving from the edge of the bed even long after Lwaxana and the Klingon had departed.

Then, after gathering Sheppard up and tucking him under the blankets of the bottom bunk, he slipped out of the room.

He still had to speak with his son, even with Lwaxana's secret weighing heavily on his heart. Once Will found out, he might not want to speak to him ever again.


	35. The Call of Battle

_**Knock, knock, knock**_

A rapping came at Riker's door. It was getting late, and Troi had already been asleep for almost half an hour. Billy lay sprawled across her stomach, holding tight to a fistful of her shirt as though to keep anyone from pulling him away.

Carefully, Riker moved himself out from under the pile. Troi stirred a little, reaching for him in her sleep. "I'll be right back," he whispered, tucking her arm over a pillow and waiting for her breathing to return to a slow, steady rhythm.

_**Knock, knock, knock. **_

Someone rapped at the door again. "It's just me, Will," came his father's muffled voice. Riker brushed a hand through his dark hair, smoothing it, and answered the door with a yawn.

"Oh hey," he greeted. "Did you need something?"

Kyle peered around the doorframe, keeping his voice cautiously low. "I uh, I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I just wanted to talk."

Riker stifled another yawn. The effort turned his face red and his eyes bleary. "About what?"

"Well, uh...never mind. I can see you're exhausted." Slumping his shoulders, Kyle turned to leave. Riker's eyes softened as he watched his father retreat into the dark hallway. Tired as he was, the commander also became aware of a certain pang of loneliness that came with waking in a strange, new place.

"No, it's alright," he called, shuffling to one side. "Come on in. I think I'm too tired to sleep, know what I mean?"

A small smile banished the clouds from Kyle's face. "Yeah, yeah I know exactly what you mean." He followed Riker inside and the two of them reclined in a couple of slings near a big, black window. "You uh, wouldn't happen to have any coffee or anything, would you?"

"No, I think all they have to drink around here is bloodwine. But that stuff will give you a killer headache in the morning. Plus it tastes awful."

"I don't know, Allan didn't seem to mind."

"He _what?_"

From the bed, Troi murmured something in her sleep. Riker waited for her to settle down again, then pushed forward in his seat.

"Tell me you're joking," he groaned.

"Hey, don't be too hard on him. It was Lwaxana's fault." Kyle eased back, lacing his fingers together across his stomach. "She was just trying to cheer him up, I think."

Riker shook his head. A small wry grin cracked at his lips. "Well did it work?"

"He burst out singing on the way back to bed."

Both men started to laugh, only to clamp their hands over their mouths as Troi stirred fitfully yet again. Riker shook with the effort of keeping his amusement under control.

"I'm sorry I missed it," he whispered once he dared to remove his hand.

Kyle grunted to agree, then cast his gaze to the bed in the corner. "How are they holding up, by the way?"

As Riker followed his gaze, his smile sobered. "Billy's just happy to have his mama back. And Deanna...she's strong. She'll make it past this."

"You're both strong." Kyle reached for his son's knee, patting it firmly. "That boy of yours, he can't go wrong with the two of you to guide him."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Riker said, scratching the side of his beard. "His big sister can be a terrible influence."

Though he had said it in jest, they both felt a certain sting to be reminded of the young woman. Riker's smile had barely reached across his face before it faded out of sight. Kyle drew in a deep breath.

"Listen, Will...you did a good job back there. No matter how this ends, you gave it your best."

"Yeah, of course."

"No, I mean it." He moved his seat directly in front of Riker. "You've already been victorious. Whatever else happens, don't let that take away from all the good you've accomplished. All the good _she's_ accomplished."

Though he was looking right back at his father, Riker's eyes seemed to stare into the distance. "I...I should get some sleep. Only a few more hours until we get there."

Kyle opened his mouth to say more, to press the issue, to express all that he might not get another chance to convey. But then, before a word could come out, he closed his mouth again. Nodding in defeat, he rose from his sling. "You're right," he said. "Good-night, Will. I, uh...I'll see you in the morning."

He trudged to the door, not expecting to hear his son speak again. But as the door slid back and he took a step through, Riker's voice rose from the dark behind him. "Good-night dad. And...thanks. I'm glad you stopped by."

Kyle smiled softly. Maybe he had conveyed more than he thought.

* * *

"_Will!"_

He was jolted awake by his wife's urgent shaking. "What is it?" he mumbled before his eyes had even opened.

"Something is wrong, listen!"

As the dense fog of sleep began to lift, he became aware of an eerie howling that rang out across the ship. Primal voices answered the call, rising up from every corner in a haunting crescendo. Billy whimpered, his blue eyes shining up at his father from beneath the blankets.

"It's the call of battle," Troi whispered. "I've heard it before. In Carmen's dreams."

"Stay here," Riker said, stumbling out of bed and throwing on his clothes at the same time. But as he reached the door, he saw that Troi had followed suit. "Imzadi," he gently admonished. She challenged him with a look. For a moment, only a moment, he held her stare. Then he opened the door and moved aside, letting her through first.

By the time they made it to the bridge, T'argon was in a blustering and bellowing fury. Lwaxana reclined in his command chair, absurdly small for the space but somehow filling it up nonetheless. The sequins of her turquoise gown shimmered like the Opal Sea as she twisted this way and that, harassing the helmsman. "Can't we go any faster, Madak? What are you fiddling with those buttons for? Don't make me come down there and-"

"Mother!" Troi called, flattening herself against the wall as a Klingon pushed past them. "What's going on?"

T'argon spun around. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. Angry spittle clung to his beard. "I apologize, commander," he snarled. "Once again, we are late to the battle."

Riker's chest tightened. "I don't understand-what battle? The coordinates were supposed to take us to a base."

"There is your base," T'argon said, jabbing a finger at the viewscreen.

A cloud of Romulan fighters swarmed the structure, raining torpedoes across its surface in a hailstorm of destruction. Chunks of debris broke away and went spinning into space like little, glowing embers caught downwind of a campfire.

Several Federation ships made a valiant attempt to defend the base. One of the ships cut dangerously close to the enemy, its photon banks glowing hot and white. But before it could fire, a beam of energy sheared its thruster away from the body. The vessel veered to the side, dipping and diving like a bird trying to stay abreast. The enemy closed in on its wounded prey. One more shot and it exploded in a flash of fire.

Troi gasped. Her mother hurried down from the helm, gathering both her and Billy into her arms. "Don't watch, Little One. Don't feel."

"Decloak the fleet!" T'argon roared._ "T'lhingan mah! Wo' batlhvad!"_

One by one, Birds of Prey shimmered into existence. They filled the black depths of space in daunting lines of formation. T'argon growled deep in his throat, admiring his own army as he settled into his command chair.

Footsteps clattered across the bridge. Riker turned to find Kyle and Sheppard hurtling into their midst. _"Carmen!"_ the young man cried. "No!"

Kyle held him back as he lunged towards the besieged base on the viewscreen. "No, Allan! Stay out of the way!" he whispered harshly. "Let T'argon take care of this."

Sheppard struggled against him. "Commander!" he shouted. "Please, commander! We have to do something!"

Riker felt a touch on his arm. From his side, Troi stared up at him pleadingly. "We have to go down there," she said.

Standing a few paces away, Lwaxana cradled her grandson to her chest. He expected her to scold the counselor, to call her back to her senses. But instead, she met Riker's eye with a small, mournful nod. "Go. I'll stay here with Billy."

"Are you crazy?" Kyle pushed Sheppard aside and marched towards his son. "Haven't you noticed that the base is _under attack?_"

"Let them go," Lwaxana said. Her voice halted Kyle in his tracks. "If Leyton dies, the answers die with him."

"But it's suicide-!"

"T'argon will take care of the Romulans. Won't you, dear?"

The Klingon barked another order to his helmsman, then turned around with a savage grin. "Worry not, my princess. I will strike them down in a glorious battle! I will litter the heavens with their bones! I will bring shame to the entire Romulan Empire as I drench the battlefield with their blood-"

"He'll take care of it," Lwaxana assured.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Sheppard glanced anxiously between Kyle and the commander.

Kyle threw his hands down at his sides in resignation. "Fine, fine," he grumbled. "Let's go."

* * *

As Riker rematerialized on the base, he could hear thunderous echoes of blasts growing louder and nearer. The floor quaked beneath his feet. Men raced past him, shouting as they dove for cover.

"_Watch out!"_

A nearby corridor burst into flames. An officer was thrown clear of the wreckage, smashing his head against the wall and landing in a dazed heap on the floor. His comrades grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down another corridor, out of Riker's view.

The flames grew higher, leaping towards the ceiling. Smoke filled the room. Troi coughed, covering her mouth with a sleeve._ I can't feel her_, she said into the space of his mind. _There's too much...too much going on…_

Riker grabbed hold of her hand, leading her and the others around the corner. _Focus on me. Don't think about the rest. _

"Help!" somebody shouted. "Please help me!"

Riker stopped. The voice had come from behind them, from somewhere within the raging inferno.

"We have to keep moving," Kyle urged, seeing his son's face draw taut with compassion. "We don't have time to save them all."

"I have an idea," Riker said. "Wait for me."

He ducked back into the smoke, ash raining down on his shoulders. Heat blew in his face. Sweat gathered in the corners of his scalp.

"Somebody! Anybody!"

Riker rubbed his eyes, trying to peer through the fire as it scalded his vision. He thought he saw a shadow on the floor a few feet away.

"I'm right here!" he shouted. "I'm holding out my hand-can you reach me?"

Flames licked at his sleeve. He listened intently as someone strained closer.

"I...I think I...yes! I've got you!" A sweaty hand clamped down on his. Digging his feet into the ground, Riker pulled with all his might, heaving them both clear of the flames.

"Come on! This way!" Throwing his arm around their waist, he urged them onward towards the rest of his team, not stopping until they were safely around the corner. A man with dark brown hair fell to the floor, clutching his chest as he tried to clear his lungs of ash. Riker gave him a few moments, then crouched down to his level. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Chavez," the man replied, wiping soot from his eyes. "Wait a minute...who are all of you?"

He tried to sit up, but Riker grabbed hold of his collar. "No, it can't wait," he growled. "It's your turn to help _me _now. I need to know where she is, Lieutenant Chavez."

A flash of recognition made the officer's eyes suddenly widen. He scrambled to get his back against the wall. "You-you're-Commander Riker!" he stammered. "But that's impossible! You're supposed to be dead!"

"Dead?" Sheppard echoed.

Growing impatient, Riker renewed his grip on the man's collar. "I said tell me where he's keeping her, or I'll put you right back where I found you!"

"Wh-who?"

"_Carmen Riker. _Where is Leyton keeping her?"

The floor rocked with another blast. An invisible shockwave rippled through the air, shaking a flurry of ash loose from the walls.

"He handed her over to the Romulan," Chavez blurted out. "I swear to you I haven't seen her since!"

"What Romulan?"

"But something went wrong. Something _must_ have gone wrong. The Tal Shiar came here to make an exchange, not to attack us!"

"What kind of exchange?" Riker's blood ran cold in spite of the heat that still clung to the air. He feared that he already knew the answer.

"I don't know the exact terms. Ask Leyton! He's the one who orchestrated all of this!"

"I plan to," Riker snapped, yanking the man to his feet. "Now lead the way."

He pushed the limping lieutenant down the hall, a trail of smoke blowing overhead. Troi filed after him, keeping a hand on her husband's back to help guide her. As Kyle wiped the sweat from his brow and started after them, he caught sight of Sheppard standing alone in the hall. The young man made no effort to follow the others.

"Come on," Kyle urged. "We have to keep up."

"What did he mean, Commander Riker is supposed to be dead?" he asked, looking up at him dolefully.

"Jaresh told the council that the Enterprise was destroyed at the same time as the Borg. He didn't want Leyton to know we were coming for him. Now let's go-"

"But that means…" Sheppard said, seemingly rooted in place. "...that means Carmen didn't know we were coming for her, either."

A distant crack echoed through the halls like thunder. Ash dusted the young man's hair and fell softly over his shoulders like snow. "Come on, we have to catch up," Kyle said, pulling him along and trying not to think of the implications.

* * *

"Call them off, Citak! I said call them off!" Leyton fumed, slamming his fist down over the console.

On the screen, and surrounded by the calculated chaos of his own bridge, a Romulan stared evenly back at him. "You deceived me. I should have known better than to trust a Starfleet Admiral."

"I did not deceive you! It wasn't my intention for them to escape, I swear it! We still have Alidar's weapon, now if you'll stop this attack, we can discuss-"

"Call off the Klingons," Citak snapped. "I will discuss nothing while my men are being slaughtered."

The floor shuddered beneath Leyton's feet. He licked his lips, trying to wet them, but his mouth had already gone dry. "I can't do that! I didn't call them here! Please, before it is too late-"

Citak's eyes narrowed. "If you did not call them, then who did?"

"I did," a voice declared.

Leyton spun on his heel. A man stood in the doorway, tall and broad of shoulder. His uniform was caked in ash and one of his sleeves hung in charred, blackened scraps. He wore a triumphant smirk as he tossed a shame-faced Lieutenant Chavez to the side.

"This-this can't be!" Leyton hissed, bumping up against the console. Citak vanished from the screen. "C-Commander Riker?"

"Happy to see me?"

With his eyes locked on the admiral, he stepped into the room like a cat stalking its prey, moving slowly and deliberately.

"The Enterprise-it was destroyed!"

"It was a ruse, Leyton. The Enterprise was never destroyed. Unfortunately for you, we are all very much alive."

"Stop where you are," came a brisk warning. Laird stepped out of the shadows, a phaser drawn and pointed at Riker. "One more step, and I'll-_aaarrggh!"_

He let out a shriek, his back arching as he convulsed under a web of energy. The weapon fell from his hand. He went down a moment later, landing with a solid thud on the ground.

Surprised, Riker turned to find Sheppard standing at his elbow, a freshly fired phaser in hand. The young man looked up at him sheepishly. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt. He's only stunned, I didn't want him to-"

"It's fine," Riker said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You did just fine."

Troi brushed past them, kicking Laird's phaser out of reach. Then she bent down to rifle through his uniform in search of more weapons.

"You don't have the whole picture, commander," Leyton insisted. "I was only trying to do what's best for Starfleet!"

"For Starfleet? Or for yourself?" Riker stepped closer. A menacing sneer returned to his face. "Now what have you done with my daughter?"

"Your daughter?" Leyton inched away, keeping as much distance as he could between himself and the commander. "There must be some sort of misunderstanding-your daughter was never here. Though I've heard of her...delinquent tendencies…"

Troi inhaled sharply, a sound of surprise and pain. Riker's fury cooled into concern. "What is it, imzadi?"

With a trembling hand, she pulled on a hilt at Laird's waist. "This is Carmen's," she whispered. Tears welled in her eyes as she ran her fingers along the intricate, hand-carved flourishes. She held the blade as though cradling the very memories it evoked. "Worf gave it to her for her birthday. She never goes anywhere without it. How...how did you get this?"

Laird swallowed hard in the expectant silence that followed. "I uh, I found it."

Her face hardened. A fire burned behind her black eyes and the tears dried up in a rage bestowed only upon the mothers of every species. She snatched at the front of his uniform, yanking him up off the ground and holding him terrifyingly close to her face. _"What did you say to me?" _

"He made me do it!" Laird cried, caving faster than a house of cards. "He made me remove her weapons!"

"Shut up, Laird!" Leyton snapped. "Not another word or I'll-"

Riker's fist flew, leaving a bright red mark on the admiral's jaw. Leyton's arms spun, trying to keep his balance, but Riker shoved him face-first into the wall before he could recover. "Tell us yourself, then. Where is she?"

"I'll have your career, Riker!" Leyton shouted. "I'll have you stripped of every title, every honor you've ever received! You'll never work for Starfleet again!"

"You're the one out of a job," the commander retorted, slamming his face against the wall to emphasize his point. He leaned forward to growl something into his ear when he noticed several dark smudges along the side of Leyton's face. At first, he thought it was just ash and soot. But now he saw that the admiral's countenance had been marred with a motley of fresh bruises. "She _was_ here, wasn't she?" he said, looking over his daughter's handiwork with a touch of pride.

Leyton muttered something under his breath, so Riker jolted him against the wall again. "What's that? I didn't catch it," he said, wrenching his arm behind his back.

"I said you're wasting your time," Leyton gasped. "Now please let go of my arm."

"Tell me where she is first!"

Pain spread from Leyton's shoulder like fire as Riker continued to wrench his arm upward. "Please! Don't do this! Alidar took her, okay? Now let go!"

But Riker did not let go. "Alidar is in a penal colony on Elba IV-"

"_That_ Alidar committed suicide two years ago," Leyton explained, his voice jagged with pain. "He-he was unable to bear the shame of his banishment. Your daughter is with the other Alidar!"

Riker's grip loosened, more out of confusion than mercy. "What are you talking about?"

Leyton panted with relief. A trickle of blood ran from his nose and dribbled down his chin. "Carmen was not the only one to come through. We found the wormhole, commander. We've been monitoring it ever since."

An unsettling feeling came over the commander. He exchanged a glance with Troi, whose eyes widened with the same fear. "But...what did Alidar want with her?"

Leyton turned halfway around. A cruel smile took shape under the trickle of blood. "She let his son die aboard the Enterprise, what do you think he wanted? A hug?"

Riker's fist clenched tightly and then drove into the admiral's stomach with a dull and sickening thud. As Leyton double over, Riker smashed his knee into his jaw. Leyton's mouth opened to cry out in pain, but he could only gulp for air like a fish out of water.

"I...saved your life, commander," he rasped, sinking to the floor. "If it weren't for my weapon, you'd all be Borg fodder by now! And this is how you repay me?"

"I'll repay you alright," Riker snarled, yanking his head back to look him in the eye. "Now where did they go?"

"Like I said, you're wasting your time." A nervous, slightly deranged laughter took hold of the admiral. "They're dead, commander. The Tal Shiar gunned them down when they tried to escape."

Riker's fist clenched again and Leyton squeezed his eyes shut, flinching away from him with a whimper. But Riker's anger burned swiftly through him, leaving him hollow and empty. He let go of Leyton, staggering back a step. The tremor of another blast shook the floor and he fell to his knees, making no effort to catch himself or stand again.

Kyle hurried to his son's side. "Will…" he lamented. No other words would follow. He slung an arm around the commander, feeling his back heave as he struggled to cope with the news. Behind them, Sheppard fell to his knees as well, weeping bitterly.

Troi alone seemed unaffected. She clutched the dagger in the palm of one hand and darted forward, pinning Leyton to the ground with her knees. "He's lying," she said. "I can feel it."

"If the Tal Shiar caught them, if they got what they wanted, then why would they attack our base?"

"You're hiding something," she snarled. "What is it? What really happened?"

"I'm telling you the truth, I-"

The rest of the words caught in his throat as she pressed the blade against his skin. Something sinister and intent flickered behind her dark, Betazoid eyes. "I can tell these things, admiral. Now this is your last chance. If I don't get the right answer, I will slit your throat and get it out of him." She nudged her chin towards Laird, who cringed as though she had thrown the knife his way. The others gaped at her, too bewildered to intervene.

"He doesn't know!" Leyton insisted.

Troi smiled, the gesture as cold as the blade against his neck. "That was a lie, too. You have until the count of three, admiral. One…"

"You're bluffing! You wouldn't kill me!"

"Two…"

"I swear, it's not-" He yelped as the knife's edge began to dig into his skin, drawing forth a thin, red line. "Okay! _Okay!_ I'll tell you!"

He shuddered violently, whimpering with every breath as she withdrew the knife. "I'm waiting," she growled.

"The Tal Shiar went after them. Nearly blasted them to hell; I thought for sure they were goners."

"But?"

His lips quivered. He swallowed once, then twice, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "But...they made it through in time. Through the wormhole. They're back where they belong and that's the truth, please don't kill me."

Troi closed her eyes for a moment, processing the news. When she opened them again, tears sparkled from their surface. "Carmen belongs _here_," she said, her voice breaking against the lump in her throat.

"Of course," he sniveled. "I only meant-I only meant that-"

"She's part of our family now. And trust me, admiral-you will live to regret messing with our family." With a cry of exertion, she drove the hilt of the knife into his temple. His head lolled to the side, knocked out cold.

Riker crawled over to his wife. She crumpled into his arms, all of her fury ebbing into grief. Her tears fell freely as he rocked her back and forth, holding on as tight as he could. Silence settled all around them while they mourned. The battle was over. Won. But in the dark of that room, victory felt far away.

"What do we do?" Troi whispered after a time. She craned her neck to look up at him, searching his eyes anxiously.

Riker let out a heavy sigh. "We'll get a hold of President Jaresh. Let him know we have Leyton in custody. We'll need help to round up everyone on the base-"

"But what do we _do?_" she asked again.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sheppard watching him intently, waiting for the answer. He glanced at the young man, nodded, and then looked back at his wife.

"We go after our daughter."

* * *

**_Aboard the USS Ranger_**

Commander Hale stepped down from his post, heedless of the red alert blaring around him. Drawing a pensive breath, he ran a hand across the sand-colored stubble of his chin and examined the Warbird on his viewscreen. It lay like a dying animal in their path, listing aimlessly to one side to reveal a mortal wound across its belly.

"You're sure there aren't any other ships in this quadrant?" he asked.

A young and nervous lieutenant sitting at navigation nodded his head. "Yes, sir. I have no idea where the Warbird came from. Or who attacked them."

"Scan for survivors."

"Aye, sir." The computer trilled loudly and then stopped. Mumbling under his breath, the lieutenant slapped the side of his console several times until the trilling continued. "Sorry, sir. It's still a little buggy."

Hale's brows drew together. "Do you suppose the distress signal could have been a glitch? A false reading?"

The trilling ended with several urgent beeps. The lieutenant leaned forward, closely examining the new information scrawled across his screen. "No glitch, sir. The signal-it's coming from that Warbird."

"I thought it was a Federation frequency?"

"There is a human aboard. They must have set off the signal."

"Who else?"

"And two Romulans. All appear to be in critical condition."

The commander paced over to see for himself. "That would explain why no one has answered our hails. But I don't understand...they're the only ones? On that entire ship?"

"Yes, sir."

A quiet, speculative buzz made its way around the bridge. Hale studied the Warbird again as if he might find an answer in the scars along its wings, the charred craters in its side. "Cancel the alert and bring them aboard," he said at last.

"The Romulans, too, sir?"

"Times have changed, lieutenant." Hale blew out a long-suffering sigh. "And anyway, you know how the captain is. She'd never forgive us if we leave any wounded behind."

* * *

By the time Hale made it to sickbay, the captain had already beat him there. She stood over the figure of a young woman with pale skin and a bloody, tattered uniform. Raven dark hair fanned out around her face. One of her arms hung limply over the edge of the cot, clearly broken, while the other lay clenched in a fist across her heart.

"She's in bad shape," the captain remarked, gingerly touching a blackened bruise on the girl's cheek. "It's a good thing we found her."

Hale grunted in agreement. "A few more hours and we would have been too late. Their life support systems had already failed."

"Yes, but these injuries are older. See this?" She held up a shredded piece of cloth. "Her arm is broken. Someone tried to set the bone. They didn't do a very good job of it, either."

Her fingers continued to move across the stranger with clinical efficiency. Hale knew she was just checking for wounds, but something almost motherly exuded from her touch. He had seen that tenderness displayed before, and smiled knowingly.

"You think she was a child soldier?" he asked.

The captain nodded. "I think so. But she's much older than the ones we've found. They don't usually live this long."

"Strange. It's all strange," Hale mused. "I can't figure out what she was doing on a Warbird."

"What about the Romulans? Did they make it?"

"They'll pull through. Dr. Boyd is treating them in the brig, just to be safe."

Something in her gaze grew distant as her fingers continued to rove the young woman's face. "Does she look familiar to you, Trevor?"

Hale bent closer, studying her battered countenance carefully. "No. Why?"

"I...I don't know." Pushing a lock of red-gold hair behind her shoulder, the captain shifted her weight to her other foot. "I can't quite place it, but it's almost as if...as if I've seen her before. Look here!"

She held up the girl's arm and Hale could see now that her fist was closed around a small object. Gently, he pried a smooth lump of gold from the palm of her hand.

"What's that?" the captain asked.

"I'll bet that's the signal we've been chasing. Suppose an emergency beacon could fit in there?"

The captain shrugged. "Yes, I suppose. Someone must have wanted to find her again."

Hale glanced down at their mysterious new passenger. "Want me to take it for testing?" he offered.

"No. The way she was holding it...I think it's more than a beacon to her."

Hale's knowing smile returned. He set the gold down on a side table. "Did you ever have one of your own?"

"What, a child?" She shook her head emphatically. "No. Jack was hoping for a son someday, but...well, he was killed before we had the chance to settle down. That was a long time ago. Long before I was sent to Haven One, even."

The commander placed a hand on her shoulder, and she reached up to take hold of his fingers. They all had their burdens to bear, their losses to grieve. Yet there was a spark of bravery in the captain's brokenness, a certain light that had never dimmed, despite the terrible price of war. "Well, I think you would have made a great mother. But I _know_ you make one hell of a captain."

"Thanks, Trevor," she said with a smile.

He sighed, giving her hand a squeeze before letting it go. "You sure you don't want to come back to the bridge with me? Dr. Boyd can finish fixing her up."

"No, I'll work on her myself," she said. "I just...I don't want her to wake up alone, that's all."

"Very well." He turned to the door, pausing one last time before reaching the threshold. "Page me if you need anything, Beverly."


	36. Family

Several hours passed before Beverly heard the young woman speak. "Who's there?" her voice rasped in the dark. Beverly flicked on a light to see her lifting herself onto her elbows with effort.

She approached the bed with a warm, tired smile. "It's alright. You're safe now."

"Safe?" She struggled to sit up all the way, but Beverly placed her hands on her shoulders to ease her back down.

"Shhh, you need your rest," she insisted.

The young woman grabbed hold of Beverly's wrists with startling swiftness and strength. "Who are you? What am I doing here?" she demanded. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes of the sedative's lingering effects. Her gaze roamed the room in search of something to focus on, eventually finding Beverly's face. Again, the captain felt a tugging on her memory. Something trying to come to the surface. Something lost that had been found.

"Dr. Crusher?" the young woman gasped. "Dr. Crusher!" She flung back the covers and leapt up, crashing into the captain with a fervent embrace. "You're alive!"

"_Oof!"_ Arms trapped at her sides, Beverly endured the hug without complaint. "Why did you call me that?" she asked, trying to pull away to get another look at those hauntingly familiar eyes. "It's been years since I was a doctor. I'm a captain now."

The young woman laughed, delirious with relief. "Come on, Dr. Crusher. I haven't been gone_ that_ long. How did you guys find us?"

Once her arms were free, Beverly picked up the lump of gold from the bedside stand. "Here-you had this on you. It's a beacon, isn't it?"

"Didn't Kyle explain anything?" she retorted. "Or is my dad still refusing to speak with him?"

"You...have a dad?"

"Of course I have a…Dr. Crusher?" The young woman glanced around at her surroundings for the first time. A deeply troubled expression settled over her features. "Where are we?"

"We're aboard the USS Ranger," Beverly answered, taking hold of her arm. "Take a seat, nice and easy. I don't want you to pass out. Can you tell me your name?"

She complied, sitting in a daze on the edge of the bed. Her eyes drifted back to the captain's face. "You don't know my name?"

Beverly shook her head. "I'm sorry, no."

"We made it through, then," she whispered, no longer speaking to the captain. "That's what must have happened. They're still...they're still dead…"

She slumped forward as though a weight far too heavy to carry had been placed upon her shoulders. A shadow darkened her face. Beverly felt an ache in her heart for the young woman, for she had seen that shadow before. The shadow of war.

"There's uh, there's a cup of water on the tray over there," she said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Try and sip it slowly. I'll be back in half an hour-"

"Please don't go, Dr. Crusher," she pleaded. "I don't-I don't want to be alone right now. Will you stay? Just for a little while?"

With a gentle hand, Beverly parted the raven-dark hair that had fallen in front of her face. "I suppose I could stay," she said, her smile turning wry. "Even though you should be resting. Would you like something to eat?"

"Uh…" She hesitated for a moment, then gave a short, shaky laugh. "How about chocolate milk? And a peanut-butter-banana sandwich. I haven't had one of those in a long time."

Beverly stiffened. That elusive sense of familiarity latched onto something deep and buried, trying to pull it out into the light. As she looked into those blue eyes again, a memory came bursting into view.

She saw Ten Forward. Stars blinking outside the window. A dark-haired little girl sunk low in her seat...

"_Come on, Carmen. You've barely touched your sandwich. I asked Guinan to put bananas in it, just the way you like."_

"_My dad is going to be furious when he finds out I've been expelled from class again. And you're the one who likes bananas."_

"_Okay, you're right about both of those things. But look…" Beverly sighed, resting her chin on the back of her hand. "Your father is just frustrated. He wants better for you, Carmen. He's not always going to be there to teach you right and wrong. He doesn't want you to grow up with this total disregard for authority-"_

"_And who says I will?"_

"_What?"_

"_Grow up! Who says I will grow up?" Carmen straightened her back and huffed out a breath before continuing. "I know what's going on. I know all about the war. Reynold Clancy said that if your parents die, they take you away and you never come back. And he has two parents! I only have one."_

"_No one is going to take you away, Carmen. I wouldn't let them."_

"_And I don't have a problem with authority, I have a problem with Mrs. Gleaves! She said my dad is too soft on me. But you know he grounded me from baseball for two whole weeks last time I got expelled? Two whole weeks! I-"_

"_Listen to me," Beverly interjected. "Just listen. Your father is…he's doing the best he can. He's lost more than you can know. And he'd do anything not to lose you, too."_

_Carmen played with her straw, pushing it around the bottom of her glass to slurp up the last of the chocolate syrup. "Mrs. Gleaves also said that my dad lets me run wild around the ship because he feels guilty."_

"_Guilty about what?"_

"_That I don't have a mom. But she doesn't know what she's talking about. I have...well, I have you. You don't let me run wild." Glumly, Carmen folded her arms on top the table. She did not see the gentle smile that spread slowly across Beverly's face. "I don't mean to be bad. I just...I get so angry sometimes. And then I forget all the stuff you told me."_

_Beverly reached across the table, giving the plate of sandwiches a nudge. "Just eat, will you? You'll need energy to make it through another one of your father's lectures. And don't worry about Mrs. Gleaves-I'll have a talk with her."_

_Carmen looked up, a smile of her own taking shape. Then, with a new appetite, she picked up a sandwich and took a bite._

"_Dr. Crusher?"_

"_Eat, Carmen."_

"_I like the bananas, too."_

"_Good."_

"_And also…"_

"_Carmen!"_

_She smiled penitently through a mouthful of peanut butter. "Sorry. It's just...Mrs. Gleaves was wrong, wasn't she? About my dad?"_

_A furious voice boomed across Ten Forward, making the girl jump. "A month this time, you hear me? No baseball for a MONTH!" _

_The girl dropped her sandwich in terror. "I have to go now," she said, dashing off to join her father. He kept an eye on her the whole time, glowering from just inside the doorway. As Carmen slinked past him, he found Beverly in the crowd and gave her an exasperated sort of nod. Then he turned to follow his daughter, the door closing behind them. _

_Beverly stared at the empty seat across from her, at the glass of chocolate milk and the peanut butter fingerprints. Carmen's question seemed to linger in the air. "I know you wanted better for her, too, Deanna," she whispered, leaning back against her seat with a sigh. "We're trying the best we can. I just hope it's enough."_

The memory faded away. But there, in front of her, was the same face. Only it was no longer the face of a little girl. Beverly's hands shook as she touched the side of the young woman's cheek. "Carmen?" she breathed.

Tears sprang to her eyes, those eyes that looked just like her father's. "You_ do_ remember!"

"Yes, I remember! _Carmen!"_ She clasped her to her chest, holding tightly, running a hand through her hair again and again. Shock and relief churned in her heart, a turbulent ocean that overflowed in a stream of tears. "I can't believe-they said there was nothing left-" She tilted the young woman's chin back, studying every inch of her face. "Oh, Carmen. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Dr. Crusher," she said, pulling away to wipe a sleeve across her nose. "I'm okay."

Beverly sank onto the bed beside her. "Jean Luc, he fought with the council for years. It nearly destroyed him when they came for you and the other children. When I found out, I...I nearly went mad. I kept thinking about the night you were born, and how happy your parents were. It was never supposed to be like this."

"But how did you find out?" Carmen asked. "I thought you went to Haven One."

"Jean Luc and I kept in touch for years." Beverly dabbed her eyes with the corner of her tunic. "Until the council discovered us, of course."

The door swished open and a small shadow fell across the floor. When only silence followed, Carmen looked up expectantly. A little girl poked her head around the corner. She had dark eyes and long, brown hair that fell down her back in ringlets.

"Come in, Namida," the captain called. "It's alright."

The little girl tiptoed into the room, watching Carmen cautiously, curiously. Behind her, three more faces inched into view. They were all different ages, but had the same somber eyes, the same chilling absence of anything playful or child-like.

"All of you get in here," Beverly ordered. "It's impolite to stare."

To Carmen's surprise, more and more children filed furtively into the room. "Where did all these kids come from?" she asked as the little girl with brown hair climbed into Beverly's lap.

"Oh, just about everywhere," she replied. "We've been rounding them up and bringing them back to Haven One. It's where we're headed now."

It dawned on Carmen suddenly, why they did not act like children. "Soldiers," she said. "They're soldiers, aren't they?"

"Not anymore." Beverly stuck her tongue out at the girl, whose face lit up with a giggle. The faint trace of a smile appeared on a few more faces. "When we overthrew the council, we overthrew the draft. We're still a long way from peace, but I believe that humanity has a better chance-and a better future-when kids are allowed to be kids."

Something strange was happening in Carmen's chest. She had expected to find nothing left. To learn that the war had killed every last good thing in this place. But hope had survived. It had been planted as a seed, small and resilient, in each of the children's hearts.

Moving slow and stealthy, Namida crawled from Beverly's lap and into Carmen's. Surprised, Carmen stared into the girl's big, dark eyes. Something safe and warm drifted towards her mind.

"You're a Betazoid!" she exclaimed.

The girl smiled shyly. One of her tiny hands reached up towards Carmen's face. _Blue eyes?_

Carmen laughed. It felt strangely soothing to hear someone in her mind again. "My mother was only half," she explained. "And my father was human."

_What is this?_

Now the girl's fingers were running over the lump of gold in Carmen's hand. She looked down, smiling sadly.

"This is a piece of home," she said, and opened her hand all the way so the girl could pick it up. A few of the children leaned closer, trying to get a better look. "It came from the mountains of Alaska. My dad gave it to me in place of a special rock that I found on Betazed."

Beverly frowned."Carmen...you've never been to Betazed. It was destroyed a long time ago."

"No, it wasn't. I mean, it was. But also it wasn't." She grimaced as Beverly's face clouded with concern.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, Dr. Crusher. I just…" Carmen felt Namida's worried nudge in her mind. "I don't know how to say this, but for the last three years, I've been somewhere else."

"What do you mean, somewhere else?"

"On the Enterprise. And they were all there-my mom, my dad, Captain Picard. They had never even heard of the Borg."

"I think you should lie down," Beverly pressed the back of her hand to Carmen's forehead. "You were unconscious for a long time-"

"I'm telling the truth! You were there, too! But you didn't recognize me-no one did. See, I was never born in that universe. A long time ago, my mom and dad went their separate ways. I can't explain it, but it was real. And it was...it was wonderful." She bit her lip against a wistful smile. "My mom and dad, they got married after all. And they had _two_ weddings-one on Betazed and one on Earth. I even have a baby brother!" She froze. A tremendous sorrow took the place of her wistful smile. "_Had _a baby brother..."

Namida curled herself into a ball, nestling against the young woman, burrowing into her mind. A small, gentle light radiated from her presence. _You can feel sad. I will feel sad with you. _

The door opened again. A man strode into their midst that Carmen did not recognize. He carried himself with the aloofness of authority, but something softened the rugged features of his face as one of the boys leaned against his leg.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, casting an apologetic smile at the women. "I just came to inform you that the Romulans are awake and ready to talk."

"You mean-they're okay?" Carmen shot to her feet. "Come on, Dr. Crusher! You have to talk with them!"

Hale exchanged a glance with his captain. Carmen's eagerness seemed to trouble him. "If I may have a word with you first…"

"I'll be right there," she said, and gave him a look that deterred the commander from pressing the issue any further. As he turned to leave, the children flocked behind him. Even Namida climbed down from Carmen's lap, racing to keep up with the others. "Stay here and get some rest. I'll come by with dinner as soon as I can-"

"I want to come with you! Please, Dr. Crusher. What they have to say is very important."

"No, Carmen." She cupped a hand over the young woman's arm. "Please rest. You've been through enough."

Carmen's heart sank as she watched the captain follow the trail of children. "But...you believe me, don't you?"

Beverly paused in the doorway, turning to the young woman with a forced smile. "We'll talk about it later."

* * *

Hale lingered in the hall outside, waiting for the captain to appear. She nearly walked right by him, too deep in thought to notice.

"Beverly?"

"Oh! Sorry, Trevor. What was it you wanted to tell me?"

He waited until the last of the children had scampered out of sight, then drew in a deep breath. "I have to admit, I've never heard anything like it."

"Like what?"

"Well, I asked them what they were doing out here. They said...they told me that...that they came from a different place. A different _universe_."

Beverly froze midstep. Her shoulders rose sharply. "That's what Carmen said."

"Carmen?"

Her should sank back down as she realized that she had forgotten to introduce them to each other. "Yes, the one we saved. Remember how I said she looked familiar?"

Hale nodded.

"I was good friends with her parents. I even delivered her, the night she was born. She…" A strange smile touched the edges of her mouth. "She was like the daughter I never had."

"How did she get all the way out here?"

Beverly glanced behind them, as though to make sure Carmen had not followed them out. "Her mother was taken when she was just a baby. And her father...he was a good man, but I don't think he ever got over the loss of his wife. She was a very lonely child. A very troubled child. And after her father was killed…"

"They shipped her off to war," Hale finished for her, a deep and righteous rage underscoring his voice.

"It's been fourteen years since I last saw her. When we started all of this, I tried to find out what happened to her. I learned that she had made it back to the Enterprise just before it was destroyed." She hugged her arms to her chest as a shiver came over her body. "I thought she was gone. I thought they were all gone."

"Then how do you explain it? Do you suppose she's telling the truth?"

Beverly shook her head, a display of frustration more than an answer. "The mind of a child soldier is delicate. Unformed. They can't comprehend the horrors they are forced to witness on a daily basis, and so they create these fantasies to protect themselves from the awful truth. It's nothing more than an escape, a coping mechanism."

"But what about the Romulans?"

"They must have an ulterior motive. You know how quickly a Romulan will turn to deceit if it furthers his agenda. They may not have told the lie in this case, but they are certainly promoting it." Her lips pressed into a thin, angry line. "How dare they feed her delusions. It will only hurt her in the end. We must set them straight."

"And the girl?"

"She's been out there a long time." Beverly sighed, and her shoulders sank even lower. "If this is what she's done in order to hold on, in order to survive, then who can hold it against her? We just have to be patient. I'm sure she'll come around."

* * *

Beverly was surprised to hear of Alidar's plans to share Romulan technology with the Federation. She allowed her engineers to work with him, but kept him closely guarded and away from Carmen. Toleel, the Romulan's son, was allowed to join the other children while his father worked. They were wary of him at first, but Namida took charge of welcoming him into their games, and soon there was no difference between human or Betazoid or Romulan.

In the meantime, Carmen offered her help around the ship. She seemed grateful for any opportunity to keep herself busy. She would often work until Hale forced her to stop and take a break, and then she would wander the ship in desperate need of another distraction.

Every once in awhile she would disappear, withdrawing from everyone for a day or so. Only the children seemed able to reach her. They would climb into her lap, or lean against her back, or play quietly nearby until the storm passed and her smile came out again. Beverly couldn't keep them away even if she wanted to. They'd sneak into Carmen's room at night, dragging their tattered blankets with them, and fall asleep in snoring piles around her bed. Carmen never complained, for it seemed to keep her nightmares at bay just as much as theirs.

Sometimes Namida would crawl up onto the bed with her and ask to see Betazed. Carmen would show her the beaches, the jungles, her grandmother's lakehouse. She'd take her to the city of Nalara and its colorful market stalls. In the space of their minds, that space just before one falls asleep, they'd walk to Janaran Falls together and watch the three moons rise.

In the evenings, after Beverly finished her bridge duty, it became a tradition for Carmen to appear at her door. "Mind if I come in?" she'd say. And Beverly never asked why. She'd just leave the door open and resume whatever she was doing. Sometimes they'd talk. Sometimes she'd let Beverly braid her hair. But mostly, they'd just sit and remember what it was like to have someone around who felt like family.

Then one morning, at the start of Carmen's third week aboard the Ranger, Beverly was recalibrating some of Dr. Boyd's medical instruments when a yellow alert blared across the monitors. Her chest tightened. They were close to Haven One by now. If an enemy ship had discovered them…

"Crusher to Hale. What's going on?"

"_Her signal! It's Carmen's signal! Another ship followed it straight to us."_

"I'll be right there."

Beverly's feet felt like lead as she made her way to the bridge. They had met resistance before in their search for child soldiers. Not everyone saw them as children, and there were those who believed in continuing the fight. Ever since they found Carmen, she had feared that someone would come for their soldier. _Whoever it is, they can't have her,_ Beverly swore, bracing herself as she stepped onto the helm. But her jaw fell open in shock as soon as she saw the face staring back at her from the viewscreen.

It was the face of Commander William Riker.


	37. Targ Tag

_**The night before**_

Not long after Carmen went to bed, she heard Namida tip-toe across the room. The girl climbed up onto the mattress and dropped down beside her. _Can we go to your nana's house tonight? I want to see that big window again, the one next to the fireplace._

Carmen smiled._ It's my favorite window, too. Close your eyes._

Giddy with anticipation, Namida shut her eyes tightly. Carmen watched her for a moment, still smiling, and then closed her eyes as well. First she had to clear her mind, pushing aside all the clutter of her thoughts. She could feel Namida's excitement hovering in the empty space.

_Ready?_

_I'm ready._

One by one, Carmen pulled up the walls of her grandmother's lakehouse. She filled them in with color, with picture frames, with every little detail that made it feel like home. The dried garlands strung around the doorway. The stack of old Westerns next to the armchair. Her father's muddy boots drying on the hearth.

Namida walked up to the window and pressed her palms against the glass. Carmen stood beside her, taking in the early morning view. Clouds hung low and gray over the lake. A white mist crept between the hills. A bird called out, and somewhere across the water, another bird answered. Other than the surface of the lake, which rippled in a sharp breeze, nothing moved within their sight. The morning seemed to be holding its breath. Waiting for something.

"It's about to rain," Carmen said, eyeing the ceiling of clouds. "The rain always sounds like music from here. And the endra flowers-those white ones down by the water-watch what happens to them."

Namida looked on, fascinated, as the clouds broke with a gentle rumble and rain poured across the lake, the treetops, the wooded hills. Droplets fell against the window with a _tat-tat-tat_. More rain fell in an empty planter on the porch with a_ gong-dong-gong_. Some fell in the soft dirt, some on the wooden stairs, some on the vines that grew up the side of the house.

"It_ is_ music!" Namida cried, listening to all the different sounds that water could make just by falling from the sky.

"And see the endra flowers?" Carmen pointed out.

Each drop of water left a colorful streak where it landed, like the strokes of an artist's brush. Namida gasped. "They're turning blue! Pink! Silver!"

"Look at those purple ones there."

"And gold, too!"

The raindrops continued to paint the delicate petals almost every color imaginable. Enthralling as it was, the sight left a lump in Carmen's throat. She cast a glance, quick and longing, at the pair of muddy boots by the fireplace.

It had rained the morning after Billy was born, and her father had woken her up to tell her about the endra flowers. They snuck out of the house together, made their way down to the shore, and collected a colorful bouquet to present to her mother at breakfast. While Mr. Homn wasn't happy about the muddy footprints they tracked into the kitchen, it was worth it to see Troi fawn over her flowers.

"Look how gorgeous those red ones are," someone said. Carmen jumped. She whirled to find the armchair suddenly occupied. A woman had joined their midst, her glittery green dress flowing to the floor and a hot cup of tea on her lap.

Whenever she took Namida to the city, or even down to the beach, Carmen would conjure up people as part of the scenery. They were merely figments of her imagination, wandering the reaches of her memory with generic faces and meaningless smiles. There was nothing generic about this new face, however. The woman did not merely sit in the chair; she took possession of the space, filling the room with her unapologetic presence. She looked back at Carmen with a smile that was somehow cunning and kind at the same time.

Namida pulled herself away from the window, hiding shyly behind her friend. "Is that your grandmother?" she asked.

"I certainly am," the woman replied. Her hand made a dramatic flourish in the air. "My name is Lwaxana Troi, daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the sacred chalice of Rixx, and heir to the holy rings of Betazed."

Namida stepped halfway out. "I like your dress. It's very shiny."

"Well at least _somebody_ appreciates Betazoid high fashion," Lwaxana said, brushing a spot on her gown as though she were polishing a gem. "It's impossible to get my granddaughter to wear one of these."

Carmen shook her head incredulously. "What are you doing here, nana? It must be my fault somehow. Some...repressed guilt I'm experiencing for leaving you on the other side." She paused and her nose wrinkled briefly. "_Baka_, what's happening to me? I keep sounding like my mother."

"This isn't your doing, Brights Eyes," Lwaxana said. "I am here because I am here. Simple as that."

"What do you mean?"

"We're all here. We've come to take you home-"

"No." Carmen stopped her short, holding up a hand. "Just...never mind."

She closed her eyes, trying to banish the image of her grandmother. Trying to make the chair empty again. Trying to forget what Lwaxana was saying before she cut her off. Finally, when the gentle pattering of rain faded into silence, she cracked one eye open. She was back in her room aboard the USS Ranger.

Little snores drifted through the dark, coming from the sleepy piles of children that surrounded her bed. The ship's engines hummed through the walls. Her grandmother's lakehouse and her shiny green dress and her knowing smile all receded to the back of her mind.

From beside her, Namida opened her eyes. Her brow wrinkled in concern as she stared at her friend. _What's wrong?_

"It wasn't her," Carmen said aloud, as if to make it sound more convincing. "It was just...wishful thinking. I'm sorry, Namida. No more for tonight."

The girl wriggled closer, tucking herself under Carmen's arm._ Let's play targ tag in the morning, okay?_

Carmen sighed, pretending to be tired and annoyed even though she was grateful for the change of subject. _Alright, alright._ _But only if someone else is the targ this time._

She could feel Namida's smile brush against the edges of her mind. _Deal._

* * *

It had taken the IKS Kahlorn nearly a week to pick up Carmen's signal, and then another week to track down the USS Ranger. By then, tempers had frayed and hope had grown weary. They all found themselves anxious to be back among their own stars, back to the way things were.

Sheppard spoke very little, though a glimpse of something old and gentle would return when he visited with Billy and Troi. The counselor kept fairly to herself as well, knowing that her mind was still dangerously delicate. She felt an echo of the Borg's violations every time she tried to open her thoughts, though it did not stop her from trying to reach for Carmen once in awhile.

Kyle worked hard to keep up morale, and though his clumsy attempts often went unnoticed (or unappreciated), Riker marveled at his father's perseverance. He'd stop by Kyle's quarters after everyone else went to bed, making some excuse about not being able to sleep, and they'd swap stories until an ungodly hour.

And then one morning, as most of the crew was still sleeping, the ship they had been pursuing came into range. It was a Federation ship, large and heavily armed. They didn't take kindly to the Kahlorn's barrelling approach.

"_This is Commander Hale of the USS Ranger. I order you to halt where you are,"_ came a voice over the open channel.

The Klingon captain snarled in reply. "Nobody orders me around like that! I am T'argon of the House of-"

Lwaxana slapped his shoulder peevishly. "Bring the ship to a stop, dear."

"You heard her, stop the ship!" he barked.

A man appeared on their viewscreen once they came to a full stop. His sand-colored hair had faded to white around his temples, showing his age like the deep-set lines around his eyes. He sat forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he studied them shrewdly.

"Greetings," he hailed, a dispassionate formality that he did away with as soon as he could. "Now what is it you want?"

"We are looking for a child," T'argon growled. "A warrior of her people. Carmen Riker, daughter of the Fifth House and granddaughter to Lwaxana Troi. Do you have her or not?"

Another member of the bridge looked up at the sound of Carmen's name. He glanced at the commander uneasily, but if Hale noticed then he did not show it. His face remained as indifferent as a brick wall. "How did you find us?" he asked, eluding T'argon's question with one of his own.

Riker balled his fists together impatiently. "She had an emergency beacon on her. We've tracked her signal to your ship, now please..." He trailed off before his voice could break. "Let me speak with her."

"That isn't up to me." Hale leaned back in his chair, slinging one of his ankles across the opposite knee.

"Then let me speak with your captain!" Riker bellowed.

Leaning back even further, Hale rubbed a hand through his beard slowly, thoughtfully. Riker seethed as the seconds dragged by. It was a power play, and they both knew it. But if his daughter was on that ship, then Riker had to pick his battles wisely.

"Very well," Hale said at length. "I will page her. Stand by."

The screen returned to a view of the foreign ship. Troi stepped forward, trying to see past its armored sides that stood like a barricade between her and her daughter. "What is it?" Riker asked, touching her on the arm. "Is she in there?"

Troi turned around to find Lwaxana watching them both. "Mother?" she asked, afraid of what she might find. Or not find.

"Yes, Little One. She is in there," Lwaxana replied. "In fact, I spoke with her last night."

Riker's head whipped towards the helm. "You did? What did she say? Is she alright?"

The screen blinked back to life before Lwaxana could answer. Riker didn't want to turn and look, but when he heard his wife gasp, his gaze automatically returned to the screen.

Beverly Crusher stared back at them from the USS Ranger. There was no doubt it was her; and yet, it_ couldn't_ be her. They had left her behind on the Enterprise only two weeks ago.

Beverly seemed even more shocked and disturbed. Her face turned white as a ghost. Her lips parted, but were unable to make a sound.

"Beverly?"

Riker's voice seemed to bring her out of her stupor. She swallowed, licked her lips, and then pulled her shoulders back. "Yes, I am Captain Beverly Crusher. What...how…"

"Please, Beverly," Troi pleaded. "We've come a long way, and I just...I need to see her again."

Hale stepped to his captain's side, whispering something in her ear. Riker's eyes narrowed. He drew in a breath, ready to make another protest (or even a threat, if necessary), but as Hale finished, Beverly shook her head at him and smiled. "It's alright, Trevor. They aren't here for their soldier. They're here for their daughter."

Troi clutched Riker's hand and gave it a hopeful squeeze. "You'll let us speak with her?"

"Just wait right there!" Beverly called, hurrying off-screen. "We'll beam you aboard as soon as we can!"

* * *

A small transporter room came into view as Riker's vision returned to normal. He saw a tall, thin man standing at the controls. Beside him, waiting eagerly, stood Beverly Crusher.

She drew in a sharp breath, looking them both over thoroughly. "I can't believe...is it really you?"

Troi stepped down from the platform first. As she approached the other woman, Beverly started to reach for her face, then stopped herself short.

"Yes, we are here," Troi said, taking hold of her hand. Beverly made a soft gasp at the touch, almost as though she had expected her hand to go right through.

Riker looked around the room for their daughter. There was something unsettling about how she had not come to greet them.

"Where is she, Beverly?" he asked. "Where's our daughter?"

Beverly glanced around. She seemed just as surprised to find the young woman missing. "Oh, I...I'm not sure. Come on, she can't be far." She pulled on Troi's hand, leading the way, and took them into a corridor with smooth, gray tiles across the floor. Paintings of Earth hung on the wall at intervals, separated by circular windows.

All of this barely registered in the commander's mind. "How is she?" he pressed. "Is she okay?"

"We found her just in time. I couldn't believe it, you know." Beverly looked away when she realized she had been staring at the commander. "Sorry. I guess I still can't believe it."

"But is she _okay?"_

Her eyes drifted back to Riker. She slowed down until they were side by side. "You always did worry about that-if she'd be okay. All those times you got called off the bridge, all those times she was kicked out of school…it's like no matter what we tried, we couldn't seem to 'cultivate her into an upstanding citizen,' as Mrs. Gleaves put it. But seeing her now…" Beverly wiped the corner of her eye with a smile. "She's okay, Will. She really is."

Another tear took the place of the one she had just wiped away. Troi pulled her in for a hug, rubbing her back with a soothing hand as more and more tears slipped down her cheek. Beverly held fast as waves of emotion, ripples of the years past, washed over them both.

"I forgot how good it is to have a counselor aboard," she laughed, turning to Riker next and standing on the tips of her toes to embrace him warmly. "And don't be mad with Commander Hale. He was just trying to protect Carmen."

"Protect her from what?" Riker asked.

"Some people think that a soldier belongs in war, child or not," Beverly answered. "We've had to-"

A horrible squealing noise interrupted the captain, followed by two blood-curdling screams. Riker spun around defensively. "What in the name of-!"

A couple of young boys burst around the corner. Riker barely jumped out of the way in time as they bolted past, shouting warnings over their shoulders.

"Watch out!"

"They're right behind us!"

Two more children turned the corner, a boy and a girl. They lumbered along on all fours, making rabid screeches and squeals at the top of their lungs. Beverly scooted closer to the wall to make room. She didn't seem alarmed in the least. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

"Ah, that's it."

Riker exchanged a puzzled look with his wife, confused as to how the strange scene cleared anything up. "That's what?"

"That explains where Carmen went. Come on." She took off after them, hurrying to keep up with the ungodly sounds.

"But-wait! What was that all about?" Riker asked.

"Targ tag," Beverly said, grinning. "It's a little game Carmen taught them."

"Carmen taught them that?"

"See, some of the kids...they've been soldiers for so long, it's like they've forgotten how to _be_ a kid." Her grin grew a little wider. "But Carmen's been helping to remind them."

As they neared the end of the next corridor, Riker could see that it opened into a vast chamber, where a circular platform surrounded a lower level. A crew of engineers worked at stations along the wall, paying no mind to the herd of screaming children that raced underfoot.

"_Carmen!"_ a boy shouted from below._ "Over here, Carmen!"_

Riker's heart gave a thump. He jogged to the edge of the platform, squinting as he scanned the sea of faces. Troi came to his side, grabbing hold of his arm.

The boy who had shouted her name stood helplessly atop a console, surrounded by children pretending to be targs. They snarled and pawed at him, just barely out of reach. Some of the snarls intensified as a figure leapt up onto the console opposite the boy. Riker grinned, sinking against the railing with relief. "There she is," he said, giving Troi a nudge.

"Come on!" Carmen urged. "Jump!"

The targ children started to climb up after the boy, leaving him no time to consider an alternative. With a cry of exertion, he launched himself over their heads. There was something strange about the way the boy moved-the way that all the children moved, in fact. Riker realized that it was because they did not move like children; they moved with a deftness and agility beyond their age, with all the training that had been instilled in them as soldiers. Even Carmen's training began to show as she caught the boy and then nimbly leapt to the next console, and the next, until they were within reach of a ladder.

"Go!" she ordered, setting him down in front of the rungs. "I'm going back for Ayleen!"

She turned to face the hoard of targs bearing down on her. A lopsided smile crossed her face as she bent over her knees, pretending to stop and catch a breath. But Riker could see a mischievous glint in her eyes. She wasn't tired at all.

His own lopsided smile turned bittersweet, for he could also see what Beverly had been trying to tell him. All this time, he thought Carmen would be lost without them. That she'd revert back to the lonely and troubled soul they had first found. Yet here she was in the midst of a childish game, far from lost or alone. "She's okay," he mused aloud. "She really is."

Carmen straightened as the children closed in on her. Just before the nearest one could reach out and touch her, she leapt onto a ladder rung and pushed off, sailing right over their heads. She landed with a laugh, taking off as they scrambled to turn around and continue the chase.

Suddenly Carmen came to jolting stop. Her feet lagged a second behind, stumbling mindlessly as though her entire body had gone numb. She touched her chest, and slowly, her face turned up towards them.

Just as she locked eyes with Riker, the children caught up with her. They knocked her to the ground, clambering over the young woman with victorious whoops and cries. From Riker's side, Beverly laughed heartily. "I'm sorry Will, but you're too late. Carmen's been turned into a targ!"

Grinning, Riker swung himself over the edge and descended down the nearest ladder. The children fell silent, moving out of the way to give this new stranger a wide berth. One by one they climbed off Carmen, who lay on her back at the bottom of the pile.

Riker approached with his hand held out. "Need some help?" he quipped. She lifted onto her elbows, mouth agape as she stared up at her father. He waited patiently for the surprise to wear off, for the joyful cry of recognition. But instead, she shrank away from his outstretched hand.

"Carmen?" he prompted. Her reaction stung him deeply, but he tried not to let it show. "It's me, sweetheart. What's the matter?"

She pulled her legs up under her, coming to a crouched position. "You're him…" she said. "But is it _you_?"

Then he understood her hesitation. As far as she knew, everyone aboard the Enterprise had been killed. She had lost her father twice now; how many more times would she keep finding him, only to keep losing him?

Riker dug something out of his jacket. When he extended his hand again, a small, blue rock sat in the middle of his palm. "Here," he offered. "You forgot this."

Tears filled her eyes. Her chest heaved for breath and she slumped back to the floor with a strange sobbing that sounded like laughter. Riker knelt beside her, gently gathering her into his arms.

"I don't understand," she said, nuzzling into the embrace. "Leyton said you were dead. I was so sure he was telling the truth."

"It's President Jaresh who told the lie," Riker explained. "He made the report that said the Enterprise was destroyed. It was all to throw Leyton off the trail. We didn't think about...we didn't realize...I'm so sorry, Carmen."

He held her close, cupping the side of her face against his chest as she wept relentlessly. Someone else approached, crouching beside the young woman and combing her fingers through her long, dark hair.

Carmen lifted her head. She knew that hand, that tender touch, that gentle mind that was surrounding her like a blanket. "Mom? MOM!"

She flung herself at the counselor, wrapping her arms around her as tightly as she could. Riker scooped them both up, burying Carmen somewhere in the middle. She sank into their love, into those arms that felt like home. _I love you, mom. I love you, dad._

They pulled away from each other just enough to look down at her. Riker smiled at his wife and then kissed the top of their daughter's head. "We love you, too, Carmen."

* * *

As the family basked in their reunion, Beverly quietly ushered the children out of Engineering. Namida lingered behind, leaning against Beverly's legs while she waited. "Captain Crusher? Is Carmen going to leave?"

Beverly looked down in surprise. It was rare for the child to speak aloud. Her eyes, big and dark, were searching Beverly's mind for the answer before she could even form a reply. "Yes, Namida. It's time for Carmen to go home."

"But I don't want her to go," she said. Her cheeks flushed with color as a fat tear rolled away from her eye. "Carmen is my friend."

"Namida?"

Carmen hopped over the top of the ladder. Her mother was right behind her, followed by her father. From out of the shadows, the children reappeared. They whispered amongst themselves as Namida bolted over to the young woman and crashed against her knees with a hug.

"Hey, hey," Carmen crooned, prying her away and crouching to the girl's level. "You'll be alright. Did Beverly tell you there's a whole village of Betazoids on Haven One?"

Namida shook her head with a sniffle.

"Well it's true. And you can show them all the things that I showed you. The jungles, the waterfalls, the moons...show them everything, okay?"

A spindly little boy stepped forward, fidgeting with the pockets of his tunic. "What else is on Haven One? Are there animals?"

Beverly picked him up, bouncing the boy against her hip. "There's lots of animals, Josiah. And big blue skies. Big bright cities. You'll love it there."

"See?" Carmen said, gently pulling on one of Namida's curls and then watching it bounce back into place. "We're _all_ going home."

"But do you have to leave right now?" Namida whined. "We haven't even finished our game yet!"

Carmen wavered, staring up at her parents with an imploring grin. "Well...what do you say?"

The children all turned pleading eyes towards Riker and Troi. A few of them even whispered urgently under their breath, bouncing on the balls of their feet. "What kind of a game is it?" Riker inquired.

"It's targ tag," Josiah said matter-of-factly. "One person starts out as the targ, and whoever he tags becomes a targ, too, until there's nobody left!"

Riker puffed out an indecisive breath. Troi giggled, for she knew he had already made up his mind. "I don't know, kids," he said. "I feel kind of...I feel sort of like...like a targ!"

With a roar, he dropped down on all fours. The children shrieked, tripping over one another to make their escape. Carmen tossed Namida over her shoulder, following close behind with shouts of, "Go! Go! Go!" Riker lumbered after them, every roar eliciting a new round of screams.

"Well," Troi said, clasping her hands together in the quiet that followed. "How about a cup of tea?"

A devious smile tugged at Beverly's lips. "I can do better than that. How would you like a glass of wine? _Real_ wine. No synthehol allowed on my ship."

Troi laughed, looping her arm through the captain's. "Beverly...you really are a lifesaver."


	38. Home

As Riker chased Carmen and the children all over the ship, turning them into his own army of targs, Beverly went to her room and pulled out a bottle of wine. Even as she downed her first glass, it was hard to believe that Deanna Troi was sitting on her couch, listening to her ramble about old times on an old ship called the Enterprise.

She told the counselor everything she could remember about Carmen, starting with the night she delivered a dark-haired baby to a young Will Riker and Deanna Troi. She told her about that fateful mission a few months later, the one Troi never returned from, and how Will refused any comfort or company in the wake of his wife's disappearance.

"Carmen was just a baby then," Beverly explained. "He asked me to take her one night so he could have some time to sort things out. One night turned into a week. Then a month." She blew out a sigh. "Nearly five months went by before Will was strong enough to care for her on his own."

Troi drummed her fingers against the side of her glass, the image pulling on her heart until it threatened to break. "Carmen doesn't know much about those early days, does she?"

"No, it was too difficult for Will to revisit. And I never told her because…well, I felt guilty I suppose."

"Guilty about what?"

Beverly pressed her lips together, tilting her head to the side. "You wanted to be a mother so badly. And five months-that was a long time. More time than Carmen had with you. It was five months of learning how to crawl and talk and eat solid foods." She gripped the stem of her glass tightly. "It didn't feel right, being the one to celebrate those milestones. I kept hoping they'd find you and we could celebrate together, but that never happened. Will kept searching and Carmen...Carmen kept growing up."

Troi reached for the hand that sat idle in the captain's lap. "I'm so grateful you were there, Beverly," she said, interlacing their fingers together. Tears glistened from her eyes as she continued. "You chose to look after my family when they were hurting the most. Not many would stay and deal with a difficult situation like that. And I _know_ how Carmen can be a difficult situation."

A laugh from both women broke through the tenderness of the moment. "She wasn't so bad," Beverly insisted. "I mean...okay, she was pretty bad." They laughed together again. "I mean, Trevor thinks Namida is a handful, but she's a saint compared to the Carmen I knew."

"Namida?" Troi repeated. "You mean that little Betazoid girl?"

"That's the one." Beverly tilted her head back, downing another sip of wine. "She can be quiet, but when she speaks, the other children listen. She has a way with them. I'll miss having her around." A cloud passed over her face, darkening it briefly. She hid behind another sip of wine.

"Why does she have to leave?" Troi asked, deciding to follow that cloud.

Beverly glanced at her sideways. "Didn't you hear? We're taking the children to Haven One. There's a whole Betazoid village on the Western Isle. It'll be good for her to be among her own people again."

"But Namida grew up out here, in war."

"Yes, exactly. She deserves the chance to go home."

"She deserves the chance to_ have_ a home," Troi shot back, leaning against the cushion with a smile. "It doesn't have to be on the Western Isle."

Her reply made Beverly pause as she was about to take another sip. "What are you saying?"

"Being a soldier, it goes against the very nature of a Betazoid," Troi explained. "I'm just saying that maybe she'd rather have the chance to help and to heal-to embrace her nature and use it for good." She searched the captain's eyes earnestly. "It's what helped Carmen."

The thought crept into Beverly's mind, the thought of being spared another painful goodbye. "Well," she said, trying her best to keep a growing sense of excitement at bay. "Ultimately, the choice will be hers. But it _would_ be nice to have another troublemaker to look after. Speaking of which-" A grin spread across her face. "Did Carmen ever tell you about the time she was trapped in a jefferies tube for two days?"

"She was _what_?"

Laughing, Beverly rose to pour herself another glass of wine. "It happened during a game of hide-and-seek," she continued. "Someone had last seen her in Main Engineering, and Will was sick to his stomach thinking she had fallen into the warp core and vaporized herself. More wine?"

As an hour passed by, unheeded by the women, Beverly continued to delve into some of her most carefully guarded memories. She told the counselor about Carmen's school troubles and their chocolate milk traditions and that time in the second grade when she accidentally set her father's sofa on fire. She told her about Haven One, and the oppressive life that the council forced her to lead, and the messages she exchanged with Jean Luc in secret.

He had written to her about the day Will died. About how and when they recovered the body of Carmen's mother. Things that, in time, Troi would later reveal to the young woman.

Eventually, their privacy was intruded upon by a little girl with curly brown hair. She stole across the room, flashing the counselor an impish smile as she took her place on Beverly's lap. Troi could feel her thoughts dancing along the outskirts of her mind like a curious animal that stays just out of reach.

"What are you doing here?" Beverly asked. "Is your game of targ tag finished already?"

She nodded, giggling as Troi sent her a mental image of a herd of targs running loose in Starfleet uniforms.

"Well then." Beverly set her glass down and wrapped her arms around the girl tightly. "How about some lunch?"

"Can they stay for lunch, too?" Namida asked.

"I'm afraid not," Troi replied, reaching over to cup the girl's cheek. "We really should be getting back to our own captain."

"Oh! That reminds me!" Depositing Namida on the couch, Beverly hopped up and went to a cabinet in the corner. She came back with a book in hand, its cover faded and its binding reduced to threads. Troi thought she glimpsed a slip of paper nestled between some of the yellowed pages.

"What's that?" she asked.

Beverly chewed on the corner of her lip, staring down at the tattered remains. "I borrowed this from Jean Luc just before they sent me to Haven One. It ended up in my crate of belongings they sent over. Would you…? Do you think you could…?"

Troi unfolded her legs and stood with a tender smile. "I'll see that it's returned," she said, taking it from the captain. "I promise."

* * *

They found Riker in the mess hall, sitting across from a pair of Romulans. One was dressed in a military uniform, his hair streaked with gray. The other looked much younger and wore plain clothes like the other children. Though Carmen sat beside her father, several boys had wedged their way between them and were giggling amongst themselves as they played some sort of card game with the Romulan teen.

"Mom!" Carmen shouted, noticing the women first, and raced towards them excitedly. As she hugged her mother, several children appeared at her heels and joined in. The Romulan soldier turned around, watching the scene with a sad and strange smile.

"This is Deanna Troi, I presume?"

"It is!" Carmen cried. "Alidar, I'd like you to meet my mother."

Riker folded his arms across his chest. "We've been doing a little...catching up," he said, and Troi could tell by his tone that there was a lot more to the story. But it would have to wait. She could feel her mother prodding her mind, impatient for their return.

"Come on and have a seat," Carmen offered. But Troi pulled her daughter back to her arms.

"I'm afraid there's no time for that, darling. We have to be getting back."

"Oh." Carmen's heart grew heavy. She stroked her fingers through the hair of a small girl at her feet. "Can I...I just need a moment."

Children climbed down from the tables, crowding around the young woman in doleful silence. As Carmen crouched to their level, giving them a lecture about being good for the captain and listening to Commander Hale, Beverly pulled Troi aside.

"It was good to see you again," she whispered, hugging her tightly.

"Oh, Beverly," she replied. "Thank you for everything. Including the wine." They laughed together for a moment, if only to hold off their tears.

"Mind if I have a turn?" someone interrupted.

They pulled away from each other to find Riker wading through the children. Beverly's tears broke through her resolve. "Come here, Will," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm so glad you found us."

"Me, too," he said, squeezing her in return. "And hey-take care of these kids for me. They're a good bunch."

"I will," she promised.

"I know you will. And I know there's no one better for the job."

She leaned back to beam up at him appreciatively. "Thanks. And _you_ take care of Carmen and Deanna for me," she said, going in for one more hug. "There's no one better for the job."

By then, most of the children had wandered off. Namida stayed behind, clinging to Carmen's leg and waiting for the last possible second to let go. Carmen wrung her hands, glancing between her parents and the captain and the girl.

"I guess this it?"

"It is," Beverly said, letting go of Riker and opening her arms towards the young woman. "But at least we get to say goodbye this time."

Carmen went crashing into the hug, dragging Namida along with her. "I just...I'm going to miss you," she murmured, hiding her tears against the captain's uniform.

"Hey, hey," Beverly crooned. For a moment, she was holding the same little girl that used to come crying to her office. "I'll miss you, too. Especially our little chats in the evening. It'll take me awhile to stop listening for your knock at the door. But you know something?"

"What?" Carmen sniffled.

Using her knuckle, Beverly tilted the young woman's chin to the side and planted a kiss on her cheek. "From now on, whenever I think about you, I'll know this-that somewhere out there, you're a family again." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind Carmen's ear. "So that makes this a happy goodbye."

"But it's still goodbye," Carmen lamented.

"I know, love. I know." Beverly pulled her back in, holding her close for a little longer. Over Carmen's shoulder, she saw Toleel lean against his father, and his father's arm went around his small shoulders. Beverly smiled. In a way, a piece of Carmen would always stay behind. "Now come on. It's time."

"What about you?" Carmen asked, trying to compose herself before she had to face the others. "Will you be alright?"

"I'll be just fine," she assured. "I've still got work to do, but...it's good work. And I have all the help I'll need." She winked at Namida, then turned the young woman around by her shoulders and gave her a nudge towards the door. "Go. You've got more work to do, too."

* * *

Carmen stepped up onto the transporter, taking her place between her parents. She had said nothing since they left the mess hall, walking alongside them in a numb state of silence.

"Ready?" Riker asked, squeezing her shoulder to get her attention.

She looked up at him, braving a smile. As she met his eyes, the numbness began to wear off. And something peculiar, something peaceful, was taking its place. "Yeah. Let's go home."

Riker nodded to the transport officer, who began preparations on his console. "Three to beam over to the IKS Kahlorn," he reported. "Stand by."

"Wait a minute-" Carmen said, though she could already feel a disconcerting sense of weightlessness. "That's a Klingon name! How did you guys-"

The transport room disappeared in a haze of white. When Carmen's vision returned, she found herself standing in a much darker room, with black walls and a red lamp overhead. Before she could finish her question, or even remember what she was in the middle of asking, someone crashed into her with a kiss. Sheppard held her against him, his lips stirring up memories that cleared her mind of everything else.

"_Allan_," she breathed, halfway between a scold and an exclamation of awe.

He grinned apologetically, brushing the side of her face with his thumb. "Sorry, I just...I missed you."

She smiled back, basking in the glow of his thoughts. "I missed you, too," she said, and leaned in for another kiss.

Someone cleared their throat, interrupting the couple, and Carmen opened her eyes to see Lwaxana pushing her way towards them. Kyle followed in her footsteps, holding a bundle of blankets in his arms.

"Nana!" she cried. "You came, too?"

"Of course I came," she said, and grabbed the young woman in a hug so tight that for several moments, Carmen couldn't breathe. "My girls needed me. And my boys." She let go of Carmen and pinched the side of Kyle's cheek, turning it pink. He made a light, awkward laugh that sounded more like a cough and took sudden interest in something across the room. Carmen raised an eyebrow.

A soft coo came from the bundle of blankets in his arms. He pulled back a corner to reveal a baby boy on the verge of sleep. Billy rubbed his eyes with a fist and yawned. His yawn turned into a gaping smile when he noticed his big sister, and he began to bounce up and down with an elated screech. "Oh, uh...here," Kyle offered. "I think he wants to see you."

Carmen pretended to struggle as she held the boy out at arm's length. "You weigh a TON!" she exclaimed. "How did you get so big? I thought I told you no more growing until I get back!" He blew a raspberry at her, a line of bubbles forming in the drool of his lower lip. "Oh come here, you little rebel," she laughed, holding him close. He sighed happily to be snuggled by his sister again. His bright blue eyes flashed a smile at their parents that made his mother melt.

"_Ow_!" Kyle hissed, startled by a sharp nudge in his ribs. He threw Lwaxana a bewildered glare, and she responded by nudging him again.

"Go on," she whispered harshly, and with a series of little pushes, ushered him towards Carmen.

The young woman didn't notice until he was already standing in front of her. The smile slowly slid from her face. "So you're still here," she said, her features drawing taut.

Kyle winced, wondering if she blamed him for any part of her suffering. If she believed he had known Leyton's plan all along. They had reached a tenuous understanding before she left, but he couldn't be certain where they stood now. "Yes," he replied slowly. "I am still here. And I just wanted to say...well done."

He offered a hand, unsure of what else he could offer the young woman. She shoved it aside, and then, to his surprise, she stepped forward into an embrace. "Thank-you," she said, and her voice sounded like it was on the edge of tears. "For taking care of them."

It felt awkward and clumsy at first, especially as he attempted to hug her back. But the longer he held on, staring down at his two grandchildren, the more his old heart began to soften. Wherever they had left off, it was somewhere far from where they stood now. And it felt as if somehow, a piece of himself that he once thought lost forever was now nestling its way back into place.

Footsteps heralded a new arrival. Carmen's eyes widened at the sight of a massive Klingon striding into their midst. He was even taller than her father, with a barrel-like chest and a long, graying beard. He stopped before the young woman, and though she stiffened defensively, an unusually gentle smile graced his lips as he gazed down upon her.

"It is an honor to meet you, Carmen of the Fifth House," he said. "You are welcome aboard my ship."

"You're the captain?"

"This is T'argon," Lwaxana explained, patting a thick swath of muscles on his arm. "He let us use his ship to come rescue you. Wasn't that nice of him?" _And he's a hopeless romantic. You should hear his poetry. _

Carmen bowed her head in what looked like a show of respect, but was actually a way to hide a fit of giggles that suddenly seized her. "_Qaqihnes_," she greeted, managing to keep her voice steady. "And a thousand thanks."

He lit up to hear her use his native tongue. "You speak like a Klingon! And you fight like one, too. Come, let us celebrate this victory properly! There is a feast to be had!"

Sheppard tugged on her hand, giddy with excitement. "They have bloodwine! I didn't like it at first, but you know what? I could get used to it."

"Is that so?" she purred, looking him up and down unabashedly. She started to follow after him, only to be stopped in her tracks by Riker.

"Not so fast," he warned, stepping between them. "No bloodwine for either of you. You can celebrate with a glass of water."

Carmen's fists went to her hips. Riker's did the same, and for a moment they squared off against each other. "Nana!" She resorted to tattling when he did not relent. "He said no bloodwine!"

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport. They've been through enough." Lwaxana looped her arm through Kyle's as if they had come to the decision together. "Go on, kids. Have some fun."

They dashed off before the commander could say otherwise, leaving him standing and sputtering and stripped of authority. "Okay, but-just one glass!" he shouted after them. "Carmen? You hear me?"


	39. A Single Flame

**Heeeey! So there's only one more chapter left after this one! I have such mixed feelings. On one hand, I'm excited to finally give you guys the last of this story, the last of Carmen. On the other hand, I'm incredibly sad that it's going to be over. But at least we have the new Picard series starting this week! Who's looking forward to that? **

**Also, you guys have been so kind and amazing with the reviews. I love them all, and reread them often for encouragement. I'm going to try to get that last chapter out tomorrow, so be on the lookout. :-) **

* * *

The food hall was packed. T'argon's crew feasted and brawled in a drunken uproar, flinging the occasional piece of food or entire Klingon across the room. Carmen soaked it all up, looking right at home with a cup of bloodwine in her hand. Sheppard had barely stopped talking since they sat down, which seemed to make Kyle happy, despite being crammed between Lwaxanna and a rowdy Klingon.

"And after we get back, the Enterprise is going to dock at Earth for two whole weeks," Sheppard informed the young woman. "Captain Picard has to clear some stuff up with the council, and then he's going to stay with his brother in France. Did you know he had a brother?"

Carmen shook her head. "No. Did you know that, mom?" She looked up at the counselor, who sat beside her.

"You mean Robert? Yes, he's talked about him before." She picked up a napkin and wiped a spot of food from the corner of her daughter's mouth. "They don't always see eye-to-eye, but I think it will be good for the captain. He should be around family right now."

"And what are _we_ going to do for two weeks?" Carmen asked. "I told nana I'd teach her to fish next time we're in Alaska. What about our cabin at Curtis Creek?"

Riker cleared his throat, picking at something that tried to crawl off his plate. "I don't know, I feel like going somewhere warm. Somewhere with a beach and palm trees. And edible dinner options."

"Wait a minute," Kyle interjected. He gripped the table as a nearby brawl threatened to spill into him. "I was thinking of taking the kids to that new Starfleet Memorial in the Cascades. Allan would love to see their gardens."

"Who are you calling kids?" Carmen growled.

"What kind of gardens?" Sheppard asked.

Riker ignored them both. "Well, how about you guys head to the Cascades, Deanna and I will find a beach somewhere, and then after a few days we'll meet up at the family cabin. Sound like a plan?"

Sheppard lit up, delighted to be a part of their plans, but Carmen seemed to waver. "Is there fishing in the Cascades?"

"There's fishing, camping, hiking...the mountains and rivers go on for miles," Kyle assured her. "I'll teach you _and_ Lwaxana how to fish."

"Thanks, but my dad already taught me," Carmen retorted.

"And who do you think taught _him_? You're talking to the master here."

Lwaxana looked down at the baby boy cradled in the crook of her arm. "Human men," she sighed. "Am I right, Billy?" Billy giggled in reply.

"Well do you know how to make my dad's trout soup?" Carmen continued. "It's tradition. We make it every time we go camping."

Kyle rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "No, I don't know that one," he admitted. "But how about this: I'll teach you how to fish like a pro, and you teach me how to make trout soup. Deal?"

A grin made its way across Carmen's face. As Kyle extended a hand, she reached out and gave it a hearty shake. "Deal."

"Oh, William!" Lwaxana piped up. "Did Deanna tell you the news about Jadyra? From the Fourth House?"

Troi nudged him with her elbow. "And by 'news' she means gossip."

"Don't tell me she's trying to start another business," Riker groaned. Lwaxana scooted closer to the table, eager to fill him in.

"Can you believe her? It all started when she hit it off with this diplomat from Altair…"

Carmen rolled her eyes as Riker listened intently to the latest gossip from Betazed. "They'll be at this all day," she advised Kyle and Sheppard. "It'll be like this at the family cabin, too."

"That's alright. More fishing for us." Kyle lifted his drink and Sheppard followed suit with a grin. Carmen joined the toast, but paused with her drink still at her lips.

"By the way, whatever happened to Leyton?" she asked.

Sheppard guzzled his entire drink and then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His eyes glazed over with a dull, drunken shine. "You should have seen it!" he exclaimed. "Your mom threatened to slit his throat!"

Carmen sprayed her sip of bloodwine across the entire table. "No she didn't! Are you kidding me?"

"And your dad punched him!"

Kyle smiled fondly at the memory. "The last time we saw him, Will was handing him off to one of the commanders in T'argon's fleet. I'm sure the Klingons gave him a very comfortable ride back to Earth."

"I'll toast to that," Carmen said, and drank until a little red stream ran down her chin.

"Hey look!" Sheppard lodged two pipius claws under his lip so that they hung from his mouth like enormous fangs. Carmen burst out laughing. She slapped the table repeatedly until only a wheezing sound would come out, her face nearly as red as the drink.

Kyle, however, was much less amused. "He's wasted again," he grumbled, prying the cup from Sheppard's hand. "You both are!"

"We're just celebrating properly, Mister Riker." Sheppard beamed at the young woman, thoroughly pleased with himself.

Her laughter had drawn the attention of her parents. Riker frowned, pulling his brows together with an air of disapproval. "I tried to warn them."

"But look at how much fun they're having!" Lwaxana insisted. "Madak, fill up their glasses again!"

"Mother, no!"

"Oh and Kyle, did William ever tell you about that time we were engaged?"

"MOTHER, NO!"

* * *

Their rendezvous with the Enterprise was met with more celebration (minus the bloodwine). Even Picard joined everyone in Ten Forward for some cake and small talk, though Carmen noticed that his demeanor was strangely subdued. Once the ship was underway again, and a fairly normal schedule set in place until they could reach Earth, she found herself standing in front of the door to his ready room.

"Come," she heard the captain beckon, and the door opened. He looked up from his desk, a look of mild surprise flitting across his face. "Miss Riker?"

"Hey," she greeted. "I mean...hello, sir."

A smile softened his countenance. "You may speak freely," he said, and leaned away from his desk. Carmen took a seat in the chair across from him. She wasn't entirely sure why she had sought out the captain, or what she was going to say. All she knew was that she had felt drawn there for some reason.

"I just wanted to see if you were feeling alright, I guess. After...you know...everything."

He nodded slowly. "You're becoming a lot more like your mother lately," he said, a hint of wryness pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Thank god."

Carmen laughed, unable to argue with his observation. "I don't know; I'd still rather be a commander than a counselor."

"An ambitious goal. Especially with a track record like yours."

Though he flashed her a wink, she couldn't help but sulk lower in her chair. "Speaking of which...I'm sorry about the whole shuttle bay incident. And meeting with Leyton in secret and all that."

Chuckling, Picard rose from his chair and wandered over to the replicator. After ordering himself an earl gray, he turned to stare out the window with a sigh. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. I understand why you did it."

His thoughts grew heavy, like a fog sinking to the ground. Carmen's heart sank as well. She thought back to Alidar and Beverly, carrying on Picard's plan somewhere beyond the wormhole. Her captain's face drifted into view, and she saw that last glimmer of hope before he died. "Sir?"

"Hmm?" The fog broke apart as she pulled him from his thoughts.

"I just wanted to tell you...well, it's something you told me once."

His forehead wrinkled with curiosity. "What's that?"

"You said...and to tell you the truth, I don't remember it exactly...but it was something about how all the darkness in the world could never extinguish a single flame. And in turn, all it takes is one flame to light a hundred other candles." She tilted her head to the side. "Actually, I think you were talking to my dad, not me. Anyway, the Federation was making some pretty terrible decisions back then, but you never gave up. Even after...after you were killed...you kept lighting the way for others. Beverly and Alidar, they're going through with the alliance you always dreamed of."

He smiled at the young woman behind a sip of tea. "Thank you, but, that was a different Picard. Not me."

"Your light is the same." She stood from her chair, drumming her fingers at her sides. "I just hope you know that not even the Borg can extinguish that flame. Or all the other flames you've lit along the way. I uh, I should be getting back to my post now, or I'll get another mark for being late." She nodded and saw herself to the door.

"Carmen?"

Slowly, nervously, she turned back around. "Yes, sir?"

"You should reconsider what you said."

Cringing, Carmen bit on the corner of her lip. She may have been her mother's daughter, but she was not the captain's counselor, and perhaps she had spoken a little too freely. "I'm sorry, sir. I-"

"About being a commander, I mean. Because I think you'd make a great counselor one day."

She brightened, beaming in the wake of his praise. "Really?"

"Really. Now go on-if you're late again, don't expect an official pardon from me."


	40. New Traditions

**So I decided to split "the last chapter" into "the last two chapters" and I'm posting them both at the same time :-). See you at the end, where I've left a much longer note for you! **

* * *

Crusher tossed her blue lab coat over the arm of the sofa. Tomorrow, the Enterprise would reach Earth. And while most of the crew was eager for some shore leave, she found herself mourning the time she would have to spend away from her beloved ship. A little routine was what she needed, she told herself. Something to make life feel blessedly normal again. Although, if she was being honest with herself, she knew her reluctance had more to do with saying goodbye to the captain for two whole weeks.

They had been spending a lot of time together, with the ship at a standstill and everything on hold until he could be medically cleared. She had half a mind to keep him in sickbay longer than was actually necessary, if only for his company.

A knock at the door interrupted Crusher's train of thought. It was a shy knock, the hesitant sound of a person who might be having second thoughts. To her surprise, she found Carmen Riker standing on her threshold.

"Carmen? What are you doing here?"

A pained expression stretched her features taut. "I...I was just…"

Recent events had left a tangible impression on the young woman, and she spent most of her time following her mother around like a shadow. Crusher convinced herself it was nothing personal, the way she hadn't come by to see her until now. Carmen just needed time to recover, that was all.

"If you're looking for your mom, she's playing poker with the others. I was supposed to join them, but I think I'm too tired for card games."

"Actually…" Carmen fidgeted nervously. "I was looking for you. But if you're too tired-"

"Now hold on," Crusher interrupted. "I said I was too tired for card games. What did you have in mind?"

"I was wondering if...maybe I could sort of...stay for a few minutes?" She tried to smile, but it turned into more of a grimace. Crusher had to try her hardest not to laugh.

"You know what? I'd love some company. Find somewhere to sit, I'll go fetch us a snack."

She went over to the replicator, ordering a plate of crackers and cheese, and by the time she had returned Carmen was sitting at the very end of the sofa with her hands in her lap.

"Here," she offered. "Dive in."

Carmen picked up a cracker and stared at it. Never before had Crusher known the young woman to be apathetic about food. _Time. She just needs time_, the doctor once again assured herself.

"So how are you holding up?" she asked.

"Fine, fine," Carmen replied. But then she sighed, changing her mind. "I guess I didn't think it would be this...difficult. Coming home. When I was stuck on Leyton's base, it was all I thought about. All I wanted. I mean, it's still what I want, but it's not _all _I want. If that makes sense…"

"Sure it does. But go on."

Carmen set the cracker down without eating it. "I learned a lot back there, on the Ranger. I belong here, on the Enterprise, but I don't always fit in and sometimes it feels like…" She floundered for words, and her hands waved in the air, trying to articulate. "It feels like something is missing. And something will always be missing. Sorry, I haven't even asked how _you're_ doing."

"What's this? A humble Carmen?" the doctor teased. Carmen made a face at her, but seemed to brighten a little. She seemed eager for the chance to lighten the mood. "And I'm fine, by the way. Let's talk about something else, shall we?"

"Alright. Sure." Carmen scooted closer to the edge of her seat in order to reach the food better. This time, she took several crackers and a pile of cheese. "What should we talk about?"

"Well…" Crusher glanced around her quarters, almost as if she were ensuring their privacy, and then leaned closer to Carmen. "Is Ensign Sheppard a good kisser?"

"Dr._ Crusher_!"

"Come on, you can tell me these things," she insisted. "Deanna confides in me all the time."

A wrinkle appeared in Carmen's forehead. "You mean my mom comes in here and talks about…?" She leaned over her knees and pretended to retch. "Never mind, forget I asked."

Crusher laughed, giving her a sympathetic pat. "Don't worry, we're not talking about your parents. We're talking about Ensign Sheppard."

"No we aren't."

"Fine then, I'll start." She pushed her bright red hair over her shoulder and cleared her throat. "I had this boyfriend once, his name was Mikelis. He used to sing to me all the time. I loved his voice, but...well, not as much as I loved his abs. _Lord _have mercy."

"Really?" Carmen snorted. "His abs?"

"Hey, I can appreciate a well-built body as much as the next woman. It's scientific, you know."

"It is?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Probably."

Carmen laughed so hard that she had to set her food down until she had recovered.

"So what about Sheppard?" Crusher continued.

"What about him?"

"Does he sing to you?"

"He only sings after he's had some bloodwine."

"Well does he at least have nice abs?"

"What kind of cheese is this, anyway? It's very creamy-"

"Okay, okay, forget it." Crusher threw her hands into the air. "I know not every guy can be a Mikelis. And I know Allan spends a lot of time in the arboretum, which doesn't exactly build a six pack. I was just thinking there must be_ something_ redeemable about him-"

"For your information," Carmen said, her eyes narrowing, "he does mok'bara _and_ anbo-jyutsu with me twice a week, and while he doesn't have a six pack, he's-" She stopped herself as Crusher began to giggle. "You're goading me on purpose, aren't you?"

"Sure am. Go on, you were saying…?"

A hint of a red touched Carmen's cheeks. "He might not have a six pack, but...he's an amazing kisser."

Crusher smiled at the way Carmen gave her shoulders a little shake, as though casting off a weight. Maybe time wasn't the only thing the young woman needed. Maybe, like the doctor, she also just needed to feel normal again. "You know, Mikelis was pretty lacking in that department. There just wasn't any chemistry, what a shame. Wait right here, I'm going to grab us something to drink."

As she made her way over to the replicator, Carmen settled into the cushions with a sigh. "So...out of all the guys you've kissed, who was the best kisser?"

When Crusher turned back around, something devious glimmered in her eye. "Jean Luc."

Carmen shot forward, inhaling her cracker so suddenly that she could only pound at her chest and wheeze until it had cleared her airway.

* * *

Picard stood at his window, gazing down at the marbled blue sphere below. Vulnerable. It just drifted through space, utterly vulnerable. Nothing was as safe as he used to believe. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of a lingering echo._ Resistance is futile…_

Chimes rang throughout his ready room, mercifully filling the silence. "Come," he called, straightening his shoulders.

A woman with red-gold hair breezed into the room. Picard's chest gave a thump at the sight. "How soon til we dock?" she asked.

"Less than an hour," he replied. "Uh, tea? I was about to make some for myself."

Crusher nodded, wandering over to his desk. A book sat under the lamp, with faded gold letters across the top that read _Six Frigates. _Below that was the washed out painting of an ancient ship on a frothing, turbulent sea. She picked it up with a smile.

"I remember this one. In fact, I told Commander Riker about it recently. Something John Paul Jones once said."

"Ah, yes." Picard turned away from the replicator, a cup of tea in each hand. "_I have not yet begun to fight_. One of my favorite quotes."

A slip of paper fell from between the pages. As Crusher stooped to pick it up, Picard began to stop her, but something held the words back from his tongue.

"What's this?" she asked, carefully unfolding a handwritten note.

""It's...from you," he said. "Beverly Crusher, I mean. Troi brought it with her from the USS Ranger."

She swallowed, holding the note in front of her face. Her lips mouthed the words as she read the first few lines.

"_I don't expect you will ever see this, Jean Luc. Perhaps I need to write it more than you need to read it. But here goes…"_

Line by line, her eyes followed the words. When she looked up again, Picard was holding out a cup of tea. He said nothing, standing beside her in companionable silence and waiting for the words to sink into her mind the way they had sunk into his.

Crusher set the book and the note down on the desk. One of her hands took the cup of tea. The other found its way to his side, and, still saying nothing, she slipped her fingers through his.

"It was a lovely note," he said, breaking the silence at last.

Nodding, she blew across the top of her tea. "A very lovely note."

"Beverly, I was wondering if...could we have dinner sometime? Maybe when we set sail again? I know breakfast is our tradition, but-"

"I'd love to." She pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. "It's about time we made some new traditions."

* * *

**Last chapter, coming up next -**


	41. No More Blues

**(Posted two chapters at the same time, so don't forget to read the one before this too!)**

* * *

_**Holodeck Four, One Month Later**_

On the stage, old and tired men played old and tired music. Smoke clung to the air like a veil. Shadows moved within the veil, some of them dancing and some of them weaving in and out of the crowd with trays of drinks. Everything looked like a dream, a soft and sultry memory, as Riker made his way to the back of the club.

His eyes swept over a cluster of tables and chairs that huddled to one side of the dance floor. He saw suits and fedoras, the glimmer of a pearl necklace, the glowing tip of a cigar, and at the very last table, the one pushed against a crumbling brick wall, he spied a young woman in a Starfleet uniform.

Her hands lay clasped on an empty table, and though she watched the band run through their number, her eyes looked at something much farther in the distance. As they finished their set with a shimmering shake of the cymbal, scattered applause drifted up with the smoke. The young woman lifted her hands to clap, an automatic, absent-minded movement. She almost could have been part of the programming.

"Mind if I sit here?" Riker asked. She jumped, her hands slamming down on the table in front of her. It made Riker jump as well. "Whoa, it's just me! I've been looking all over for you. Picard's got a new mission for us-nothing too exciting. We brief in a couple of hours."

The color returned to her face, along with a sheepish grin. Her hands slid off the table and onto her lap. "Oh, sorry. I just...here, take a seat."

He pulled out a chair, swiveling it around and straddling it with his arms slung across the wooden back. "What is all this, anyway?"

"It's Chicago. 1940's. You know her, of course." Carmen nodded towards the stage, where a woman had made her entrance. Her skin was the rich color of caramel. Her lips and nails were painted red. Her hair, dark and glossy, had been swept to one side of her head. She cupped the mic in her hands as though she were holding the face of a lover.

"_No more blues, I'm going back home_

_No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam_

_Home is where the heart is_

_The funny part is, my heart's been right there all along"_

Riker leaned back in his seat, latching his fingers together behind his head. "Carmen McRae," he smiled. "You come here to watch her?"

"Yeah. My dad used to bring me here all the time to listen to her sing. After being back there, on the other side, it...it made me think about him."

Riker's smile slowly faded. As time went on, it had been easier and easier to forget that he was not Carmen's real father. Yet there were fleeting moments while he was nursing Billy to sleep with a bottle, or watching him learn how to grasp things in his pudgy little palm, or listening to those baby breaths in the dark, when he'd feel a stinging reminder of all that he had missed with his surrogate daughter.

"We'd sit at this table and share some apple martinis. Then the band would pick up and he'd ask me to dance," Carmen continued. "I knew none of it was real-the drinks, the singing, even Carmen McRae up there. But _he_ was real. It was like he left some...some mask at the door, and he'd slip back into an old, forgotten version of himself."

She cleared her throat, shifting in her chair, trying to make herself more comfortable. The woman on the stage flashed Riker a smile as she started singing the final verse.

"Anyway, I still remember the morning after he was killed, that first morning without him. I laid in bed and waited to hear him start getting ready for work. The silence drove me crazy. I ran all the way here, to Chicago, hoping to drown out that awful silence. Hoping that somehow, I'd look up and he'd be standing there, asking if I wanted to dance." A short, bitter laugh fell from her lips. "The band played. The waiters made their rounds. And he never came. I just...I had to come to grips with the fact that I'd never dance with my dad again."

Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. She reached across the table and took hold of his hand. "For awhile there, I thought I lost you again. When Leyton said...when he said the Enterprise…"

Riker squeezed her hand. "Hey, hey. Look at me," he ordered. When she met his gaze, he could see a mist of tears across her eyes. "We thought we lost you, too. But we found each other again, didn't we?"

A smile fought for life on her lips. "We did. And now I get to see you all the time. The real you."

Her words broke his heart softly, gently, in a way that he had not expected. In his mind, he saw her racing along the Betazed beach, chasing that silly kite and being a kid for the first time in her life. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you…" He paused as a man with shiny black shoes and a crisp bow tie stopped by their table, setting a couple of martinis down in front of them. "I should have brought this up sooner, actually. The whole time you were gone, I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"About what?"

"It's just that...I know you didn't have a choice when they made you a soldier. But you don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to wear that uniform if you don't want to. From here on out, the choice is yours."

Carmen's forehead furrowed. She put her elbows on the table, slouching over her drink. "I never really thought about that."

"Will you, though? Will you promise to think about it? I mean, you don't have to leave the Enterprise. Maybe you could work full-time in the arboretum with Keiko."

"I think that would be a more dangerous option," she quipped, bursting into laughter. "And yes, I promise to think about it."

Carmen McRae finished her song. As she bowed for a round of applause, the piano picked up a jaunty tune. The saxophone and a cello joined in. Riker smiled at his daughter from across the table. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Like what?"

He rose from his chair, holding out a hand in her direction. "Will you dance with me?"

A few tears slipped down her cheeks and trickled over the smile she sent back to him. "I'd love to," she said, taking his hand and letting him lead her away from the table. Soon enough they had joined the other shadows in front of the stage, dancing until all their tears, and all their troubles, were nothing but shadows as well.

THE END

* * *

**We made it, guys! Excuse me while I have an existential crisis now haha. To everyone who's been following Carmen's journey, thank you so much. You're the reason that, so many times in the midst of everything else getting in the way, I kept writing.**

**Working on these fics has been such a cathartic experience for me. The truth is (if I may be emotionally bare for a moment), my childhood was marked by violence and abuse. I spent years in counseling, learning how to cope with PTSD and depression and feeling very lost.**

**I found my way out of it. Like Lwaxana said in one of these chapters, loss leaves a hole in your heart, but other people come along who know how to fill it up. They build bridges across your walls. I know this is true, because I now have my own bridge-builders.**

**I wrote these stories because as Carmen healed, and as Carmen found herself a family, so did I. And my hope is that anyone reading this would maybe feel the same. Whatever draws you to fan fiction, I hope that if there is a hole in your own heart, Carmen has helped fill it up a little along the way.**

**As for what's next, I don't have any more plans. I thought I was done, but I miss Carmen already (haha) so I wouldn't mind doing a one-shot or something with a handful of chapters. Zara08-I really like your idea of bringing Thomas Riker into things! I jotted down some ideas the other night, and might make something of it in the near future! :-) If anyone else has any ideas, feel free to leave a comment or send me a message. And if any of you are writing fics of your own, make sure I know about it! I'd love to follow along!**

**Thanks again for everything, I could never really say it enough. Keep going boldly, wherever life takes you!**


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